Of Gold and Steel
by KillerSnowball
Summary: Until now, Sara has been marginalized and mostly forgotten about after circumstance brought her into the life of one very beleaguered Severus Snape. Content to be forgotten through the years, she finds herself in the precarious position of suddenly having the interest of her reserved, distant, and reluctant mate. Sharp tongues, stinging hexes, and love... oh my! COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note- **It's been literally years since I've published any fanfics, so please do forgive if the story gets a bit intense at times. This story begins during the summer just before HBP and continues until the end of the series. Updates will take place (RL schedule permitting) on Sunday and Wednesday evenings. Canon is applicable where possible, though I can't promise I won't take a bit of artistic license with the man himself. Special thanks goes out to SK for his part in this fic, though he has no idea I've written it based off of a series of most excellent conversations over a period of several years.

Rating is M for adult scenes, some overt smut, and no small amount of dark situations. Reviews are loved and feedback is amazing, especially critical feedback. Please do bear in mind that I am a grown woman with a husband, a full time work schedule as well as a full course load in university, so during some periods, the schedule of posting may be tweaked by a day or two, but generally on time. The story is, as of the posting of this first chapter, standing at just shy of 11,000 words and just getting started. Projected completion will be in the 40-50K range total. I currently have no beta reader, but perhaps there may be a lovely volunteer who's willing to work for gratitude among you?

And reviewers... don't be gentl, be honest. And remember... everytime I typo, the errorists win, so my apologies in advance.

All terms and key plot points that are a bit fuzzy now will be explained as time goes on, scout's honor! Standard disclaimers apply. Only Sara is mine, along with the non-canon magical plot point of a Kelsalis and a Kel (one of those terms that will be explored further in coming chapters).

Thanks!

x Snow

**Chapter One**

* * *

The only aphrodisiac I need is your voice

Hearing you speak my name

Beckoning me to answer

Telling me you want me

So I tell you that you're the answer to every question I've ever had about love

-Bilingual, Jose Nunez

* * *

Sara's brow furrowed into a tight frown, the sight of the tiny houses below her growing closer with every passing second, and as they did, the terror in her stomach mounted. Summer was never her favorite time of the year, at least not in England. She tugged at the seatbelt, tightening it around her hips, then buttoned the sweater she wore, knowing all too well just how cold it would be when the plane finally touched the ground at Heathrow. The frown that settled over delicately wrought features would become semi-permanent, lasting at least until the end of the summer… so would her headache, the beginnings of which she could feel starting, the minute tightening of muscles behind her eyes. Summer vacation… Spinner's End… Him. Hell. She was entering hell.

The plane touched down with a bump and lurch, kicking her heart into overdrive. Four years now, four summers spent in the dreadful catatonic state that accompanied that blasted man. Her Kel. She'd stopped wishing for more than a sneer and a command the summer before, on her last day there, when he'd managed to dump her at the train station without so much as a farewell, only twenty pounds for cab fare and a note instructing her to what time the cab would be coming for her. Sara's jaw tightened at the memory, hear heart sinking with each passing second as the plane was pulled into the gate. The instant the fasten seatbelt sign was off the people around her began the wild grab for luggage, a fit of temporary madness that always seemed to accompany being stuck inside a metal can hurtling through the air for a good seven plus hours.

Sara, however, made no move to be among them, instead waiting until the herd had thinned out. She was, after all, in no hurry to start the summer. It would, after all, only consist of staring at the same four walls she spent every summer for the past years staring at. The same walls with the same faded portrait of some ancestor who never spoke, never moved, and possessed no magic whatsoever. If there was a place in the muggle world where magic went to die, Sara suspected Spinner's End and her little room there might just be it.

Almost an hour later, she had finally found her way through customs and onto the train heading north. Her journey was not nearly over, and with each and every mile that passed, her mood darkened, her joy slipping away as apprehension settled over her like a shroud, hovering oppressively over her, slowly pervading her pores and her lungs, breathed in like an unseen fog and settling inside the marrow of her bones. The distance within herself was crucial. The bonding had never been completed, and until it was, there would never be any comfort from her Kel. He was not the kind to ever complete the bonding as it was needed and so she remained alone, distance, a part of a whole that would never be formed. Her usual happy smile that so many knew and associated with her was nowhere in sight, her eyes haunted and utterly lacking in the joy that was so naturally a part of her.

By the time she emerged from the train station and onto the darkened sidewalk, her stomach was cramping with hunger and her heartbeat thudded in time to her steps. Her suitcase trailing behind her, she made her way into the chip shop just down the street from her destination and plunked down onto one of the hard benches. She pulled her hat down low over her eyes as she gazed out the window into the rain soaked street. Her hair clung to her face, the collar of the wool coat she wore turned up against the chill of the evening. Sara picked at the lamb kabob and chips she'd bought, forcing herself to down a meal, her eyes never leaving the street. Twenty minutes. She was expected to arrive on his doorstep in precisely 20 minutes. Idly, she wondered if he would notice if she simply didn't show. She frowned faintly once more, her head lifting as she glanced toward the clock, the last of the barely touched food turned away. It was a wonder the chip shop survived in a neighborhood as rough as this. It seemed even seedier now in the dark and rain, lit only by the orange halos cast from the streetlights and of those… more were broken than worked.

Sara stood once more, tugging her hat down lower on her head as she tossed the remains of her dinner into the garbage bin nearby and gripped her suitcase by its battered handle once more, hiking her backpack higher on her shoulder. Her wand was tucked into her left sleeve, capture snugly in the sweater she wore to fend off the cold and damp air. So much colder here than in the States. Especially for June. God, she hated England. She paused at the corner, the house within sight, just across the street a few meters away. She thought for a moment she caught sight of movement in the from the curtain. It was so quick though, there was no way to really know. Sara lifted her eyes to the door once more, making her way across the sleep with slow, plodding steps. She produced the copy of her key a moment later, slipping it into the lock and drawing in a breath, steeling herself against the weeks to come.

The moment she opened the door, she knew she'd made a mistake. It was quiet, as quiet as ever, only the ticking of the clock serving to rend the silence from something comfortable, turning it on ear and setting her world into an instant, torturous countdown, though to what she didn't know. The man appeared before her, his wand pressed to her throat as he uttered the words in a breathless, squealy voice. "Just who the bloody hell do you think you are? Waltzing in here as if you own the place?"

Sara froze in place at the first touch of the wand to her pulse point. Her breath hitched as her hand fisted around the key still in her grip. Her eyes darted around herself, the door open to the front room clearly betraying that she was in the right house, her key had worked, the faded lace curtains were the same, the smell of age and discare… the same. Her frown deepened as a small squeak of fear emitted from her. Surely Severus would correct him. He knew she was coming. It was July third. She always arrived on July third. Sara drew herself up, her brow deepened into something unrecognizable beneath the rain-soaked floppy brimmed hat. The putrid little man pressed his wand deeper into her neck, more painfully now. His voice was a grumble as he tossed the words at her. "I won't ask again. Who are you?"

Sara drew in a breath, her petite frame relaxing as she focused clear blue eyes on the stranger, answering him succinctly. "Better to ask who you are. He will not like it if he finds that you've accosted the only person who has a key to his house aside from him." She lifted her hand, letting the key ring dangle from her fingertips. Doubt flickered over the man's face in the next moment. Sara swallowed hard, her eyes darting toward the doorway that led to the front room once more.

The instant of doubt flitted away from the man's face as if it had never been there. Sara drew in a slow breath, a breath that burned its way into her lungs. In the next heartbeat though, blessedly, his voice came. Not the stranger's roughened, twisted voice… no, this was the voice of her greatest enemy and her only ally in the whole of the wizarding world. "Put the wand down, Wormtail, we wouldn't want you inadvertently decapitating yourself." The droll voice she had not heard in precisely 9 months and 28 days pierced through her fear, bolstering her and lifting her up, wrapping her in armor and steeling her, as if she were facing some unknown war.

Sara spun slowly, her eyes locked to the staircase as she released a breath she'd not realized she'd been holding. "Mr. Snape." The words were murmured softly, tinged with something akin to relief, though barely above a whisper. Severus descended the stairs, his countenance as grim as ever as he intoned, "Mrs. Snape." The formality practically dripped from him, his cold eyes raking over her rain-soaked form impassively, though she knew from experience it was his custom, a cursory check for damage, to measure any changes the last year had brought. He gave a dismissive nod of his head toward her as she stepped to the side, brushing past her. "Close your mouth, Wormtail. You look like a dying fish."

Beside Sara, the unknown man was gaping, his mouth working in silent shock, though Sara knew better than to ask questions. There were precious few rules for her visits during the summer, or what passed for summer in England, first and foremost of those rules, obedience, second… don't ask silly questions. She pressed her slight form closer to the wall as Severus spoke again. "You may put your things in my room, Madam. Then make yourself presentable. Dinner will be served in precisely one hour." With that he turned dismissing her in that way of hers. It was one of the things she almost managed to forget about, along with the inevitable pang that it brought to her chest, to be dismissed as if she were nothing more than an unruly child to be set aside.

It was as he was disappearing through the door that his words struck her. "Your room, Sir?" Sara blurted the words before she could stop herself. Her gaze shifted toward the other man in silent question. She inhaled sharply, the biting silence that followed registering the surprise that was reflected in Severus's eyes for only a moment. His gaze flicked quickly toward the one he'd called Wormtail, then back toward her, the minute shake of his head given. He was warning her, but why? Could it be, Sara wondered, that the vile man was actually resident in the house? Good lord, for how long would she have to put up with the leering eyes that had so unsettled her already and she'd only been in the door a few scant seconds.

Severus's voice came once again, the sarcasm that laced them as perfectly placed as if her question were one that were unexpected. "Of course, Madam. The left side of the wardrobe is yours, as usual." And there the lie was, tied up in a pretty little bow, delivered neatly to her beleaguered and unwilling brain. Perhaps it would make more sense. She nodded, her face flushing as though on cue, as if she truly had made some small oversight. "Ah, yes. Forgive me, Sir. I'm just a bit tired. It was a long flight."

Severus offered her a curt nod. The formalities he had instilled in her from the moment of their first meeting now served to save her. She cleared her throat and lifted the suitcase from the faded rug in the front hall, making her way up the stairs.

Once she'd disappeared around the turn of the steep, narrow staircase, she lowered her suitcase with a near silent plunk. Sara drew in a sharp breath, her eyes resting on the hallway. To the right was his study, the door drawn tightly shut, locked and no doubt warded against intruders. To the left lay her room, or what she'd come to think of over the years as her room. That first summer, it had been a hell and a refuge wrapped into one, a place of solace, privacy, and inner sanctum against the madness that she teetered on when she was forced to be in the presence of the one man who set her so on edge. Her hand rested on the door for a moment before drawing away and lifting her suitcase once more as she moved past the washroom and strode purposefully to the second door on the right. She'd never so much as dared to peek past him when she'd come across him on their rare moments of passing in the hall.

Summers in the Snape house were not for pleasure, they were for solitude, the ensuring of the binding and nothing more. She drew in another deep breath to steady herself, scrubbing at her eyes as she pushed the door open. Sara stepped inside and found herself face to face with a room very unlike what she'd learned to expect from Severus Snape.

The window was closed against the rain, the curtains drawn shut, only a small sliver of light from a streetlamp visible between the panels of dark blue fabric. The room was of a modest size, as were all the rooms in the house, dominated by a double bed in the center. One first glance, it didn't even seem long enough to accommodate her host's tall frame. A lamp burned on the bedside table, piled high with books, though the bed was made, impeccably precise, in fact the entire room was almost militaristic in its neatness, not so much as a speck of dust anywhere, not a single thing out of place, nary a sock on the floor to speak of the room's inhabitant. Sara made her way toward the small, yet sturdy desk just beneath the window, the straight backed chair tucked beneath it used to rest her suitcase on. The hard wooden surface did not look precisely welcoming, but it would do for her purposes. She recognized the desk. It had formerly occupied the corner of her own room and for a moment she dared to smile. It was a small thing, but he had remembered her desk. The line of her shoulders relaxed as Sara moved to the wardrobe, pulling open the left side. Sure enough, it was empty as he'd promised. It was quick work to empty her suitcase and backpack of the contents, settling in for the summer. Her laptop and charger, along with the rather large pile of her own study materials were arranged on the little desk carefully.

She knew without having to be told, just how he expected that hour to be spent. What she did not understand, or even dared to question… just who the hell was the smelly little man with the silver hand whe'd had the audacity to put his wand in her face. Sara drew herself up to her full height and began the shed the layers that had shielded her from the rain, tucking them away carefully in a corner of the room.

Sara gathered her things for her shower and checked the clock before cursing beneath her breath, forty minutes of the hour gone already. She frowned faintly as she bolted across the hall, taking care to move with as much stealth as was possible. The last thing she wanted, on top of the raging headache she had, was to trigger another of her Kel's interminable lectures. They were rare, more frequent that first summer, less so the second, and almost none the past. She rather hoped that this would be the first year with not hour long lectures about the virtues of closing cupboard doors all the way. After all… it simply would not do to trigger his anger. After all, someday, that vein in his head would give and the poor bastard would drop dead. Sara just hoped it would not happen this summer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note- **This chapter coming on the heels of the first, given I have had a bit of unforeseen free time to do some editing. As always, there is the chance of the odd typographical error sneaking in. And also, as ever, feedback (especially critical) is always welcome. Standard update days are Sundays and Wednesdays.

Special thanks to SK for being lovely.

Rating is M for adult scenes, some overt smut, and no small amount of dark situations. The story is, as of the posting of this second chapter, standing at just shy of 11,000 words and just getting started. Projected completion will be in the 40-50K range total. I currently have no beta reader, but am open to anyone who is fool enough to volunteer for the position.

All terms and key plot points that are a bit fuzzy now will be explained as time goes on, scout's honor! Standard disclaimers apply. Only Sara is mine, along with the non-canon magical plot point of a Kelsalis and a Kel (one of those terms that will be explored further in coming chapters).

- Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Two

* * *

Without words I use my tongue to tell the tale of us

Tracing your shadowscape

Kneeling before you my eyes feast upon your masculinity and

All it's divinity and I praise you

Because all of that is for me - Jose Nunez - Bilingual

The sound of the shower was the only noise he'd heard since she'd gone up and that had shut off some minutes ago. He glanced up toward the clock, snapping the book shut resolutely. Appearances must be maintained, especially in so risky a position. Wormtail's report would be sent to the Dark Lord the next morning, by his reckoning. That meant that this night, this crucial first night must be without error. Severus rose from his seat as he turned toward the kitchen and the meal prepared within. If there was nothing else the ingrate was good for, at least he'd taken to cooking, having learned early on that Severus himself was not about to play dutiful host. The clock struck nine.

Precisely at that moment, Severus took his seat. Wormtail frowned toward him, his gaze flicking to the doorway where, with her usual predictability, Sara has appeared with that eerie promptness of hers. Severus gestured to the seat to his right, indicating silently that she should sit. She ducked her head in silent acknowledgment and moved soundlessly toward the table, sliding into the chair and somehow, miraculously, managing not to let it so much as creak on its unsteady, rickety legs. Severus felt a hot rush for a moment, as he always did, at the sight of her.

Exhaustion lined her delicate features but did nothing to detract from her beauty. She carried herself with a grace that pure-blood women strived for, an innately charmed being. She was built for seduction, bred for corruption, and groomed for obedience, a deadly combination that made her so very perfect, and so very dangerous, wrapped up on one impossibly unattainable package. A Kelsalis, born and bred, she was his burden and in a twisted way, his damnation. Clear blue eyes, as pale as polar ice, almost white by the light of day, set in porcelain pale flesh, even more fair than his own, contrasted with chocolate locks that fell almost to her waist, still damp from her shower. She pushed her hair over her shoulder, exposing the unmarked line of her neck. Severus caught his eyes straying to her pulse point and redirected his gaze toward her face once more, his usual reserve firmly in place in the next instant as he reached for the bottle of wine on the table and poured her glass first.

"I trust you are settled in, Madam." Her gaze turned to him for a moment, a strength glittering in her eyes, a hardness he'd not seen before, though she blinked and it was gone in a second.

Sara's coolness, he knew only too well, came in the form of the deceptively soft words that answered him. "Yes, thank you."

Wormtail dropped into the third seat, clearing his throat as he offered Sara a a friendly smile, though the leer that was obvious brought a hardening to Severus's features. "Terribly sorry about all that business at the door, Mrs. Snape. Can never be too careful, can you?" The polite conversation was as stilted as it ever was.

To her credit though, Sara managed to hide the revulsion she felt, though it lanced through Severus as acutely as though it were his own. "Thank you." Severus observed her from the corner of his eye, the unsettling changes to her appearance drawing confusion to the fore of the war he fought with himself in her presence. It was her nature to ensnare a man's senses, however it was a nature he had long since come to terms with, and even learned to appreciate. It could, perhaps, work to his advantage now. A plan began to formulate as he pushed the glass of wine toward her and then filled his own, ignoring blatantly the expectant look from the spy seated at the table with them.

The blissful silence lasted only a few more seconds, shattered by Wormtail, as he always managed to do, the bumbling fool. "How long you two been hitched then?"

Severus's eyes cut toward Sara, who blinked at him, startled. Severus gave an imperceptible nod before she drew in a breath and answered in those gentle, dulcet tones of hers, the sweet lilt of her accent filtering through him as a balm, shooting straight to his core. "Almost five years." She lowered her gaze back to the lamb on her plate, working at her meal with her usual methodical precision.

Wormtail frowned and then spoke once more. "You're a bit younger than Snape, ain't ya?"

Sara lifted her eyes once more. Severus ignored the panic in her eyes as he spoke pre-emptively, "Wormtail, if you will spend the next seven weeks grilling my wife about me, have the decency to wait until I am not trying to eat." Beside him, relief filtered over Sara in waves. Severus made no move to soothe her. He found it a curious thing, a pleasant diversion, to feel things from her perspective. It had startled him years ago, at the beginning of their binding, he'd questioned Dumbledore about it and been told, with an amused twinkling of faded blue eyes, that it was normal, expected even, and a sure sign that they were well-suited. Severus had never asked another question of the old man again. It was, after all, just another of those sacrifices he'd had to make, a sacrifice he would be making though, for the rest of his life, however short that might be. Double agents weren't known for living to be graying old men with grandchildren bouncing on their knees.

Pettigrew sputtered, his ramblings ceasing for only a moment before he began the backtracking to save his worthless arse. "Snape, I only meant that… she's so… and you're so…"

Beside him, Sara's bewilderment grew in leaps and bounds. To his surprise, she broke her silence, offering the man a soft smile, despite the hatred that unfurled in the pit of her stomach, hatred that crawled into his own chest and settled across his lungs like a brick, taking with it what little appetite he'd managed to retain. "Mr… ah…Wormtail, was it?"

Pettigrew's attention was immediately drawn toward Sara. "Ah, yes. Wormtail, they call me."

Sara nodded, a soothing gesture. Severus tried not to admire it, but some small part of him grudgingly admitted, she was far better at concealing the hatred she felt for the little maggot than he ever would be. "Mr. Wormtail, I'm sure you understand… I have had a long day, yes?" She inclined her head toward the rat as if the gesture bore in it the utmost respect and without another word to him she lowered her fork and knife to her plate, focusing her gaze on Severus.

A bolt of arousal cut through him, curling in the pit of his belly and lighting the desire that he usually managed to keep dormant. Severus's jaw tightened as he stared at her. Was it her arousal, or his? They'd become so entangled, so ignored over the course of the years, he no longer knew the difference. He knew instantly what she wanted, the cut of her eyes toward the door. She wanted escape. Severus's resolve hardened, his brow lifting as he glanced toward her nearly full plate. Nonetheless, he gave a nod. "You must be tired."

He found himself pushing his own plate away as well and rising to his feet. "Wormtail, make yourself useful and be quiet going upstairs. My wife is tired and so am I." It was barely a quarter past nine and he was going… found himself following the denim clad derriere of the ever elusive Mrs. Snape up the staircase, as if he had some intent. Impossible… he never had intent when it came to this woman. Appearance must be kept up, that was all. A chaste kiss to the cheek after their marriage had been registered before the Ministry and then nothing more.

She kept her vows, of this he was certain, just as he kept his. He brushed past her at the top of the stairs, pushing the door open to his room. He was loathe to share his space with anyone, ever, he did not share well. However, the alternative was unthinkable. Sara was a Kelsalis… she was HIS Kelsalis, to be protected and used as he saw fit. And he certainly did not see fit to have Wormtail's wandering eyes and roaming hands over the woman he was bound to. However reluctant a participant he was, Snape knew full well what it had entailed going on, and though he chose not to use his little toy, she was still HIS toy to neglect, and thus far, neglect had worked quite successfully. He saw no need to change it. Once she was inside, the door was pushed closed and the lock flipped. He turned to peer at her in the dimly lit room, his posture relaxing marginally as he observed her. His gaze narrowed, his brow lifting of its own accord as she made her way to the wardrobe and pulled it open, rummaging for something in the drawers that lined the bottom.

The awareness in his belly intensified, some unidentifiable reaction to proximity. He stared at her form as she pushed the wardrobe closed and turned away from him, as though he were not standing, staring at her, unmoving. Without conscious thought, he spoke. "In here you may speak freely. He cannot overhear us."

There was a moment's pause, confusion crowding into his skull for a moment before she spun to stare at him, the bewilderment she'd managed to tap down on rising to the fore once again. "Please. I beg of you… do not share me with him."

The blurted words were the last he expected to hear. Surprise was written over his features, uncontrolled and unmeasured. His façade had been breached and danger signs began to blink neon inside his brain. He remained silent for a moment longer as she gripped the clothing she clutched to her chest, as if to ward off physical blows. "Please. I promise, I will do anything you ask of me, Severus, but please do not command that of me. I don't know what I've done, but I won't let it happen again. I swear… please, just not that." The pleading in her voice was unmistakeable, the surrender, and in that one moment of weakness rage fluttered through him, arousal mingling and rising as it ever did during one of the rare displays of pleading she was so adept at. It was not pretty words, it was her nature, a nature she fought against and rather unsuccessfully.

Severus remained still, unmoving as she scrubbed a hand over her face. "I don't know what I've done… but I promise, just tell me, my Kel, and it will not happen again."

Anticipation curled into his belly now, the rage passing as he lifted a hand, fingers flicking to beckon her forward. She moved toward him, still clutching the ridiculously pink confection she apparently intended to sleep in. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick, though he did not touch her as she came to stand before him. The unique scent that was distinctly hers filled his senses, peppermint mingled with a hint of rosemary. "I do not share what is mine; I do not share my books, nor my home, nor my wand, nothing." He paused for a moment, the power that pervaded that moment seeping into his bones, answering the need that he suppressed 10 months out of the year, spurred him onward. "I do not share my playthings. Even those I do not play with often. And you, Sara, are mine. Unneeded, unwanted, and without a place… but still mine. If he touches you, even so much as looks at you the wrong way, I will ensure he pays. In the meantime… look at me…. " He waited until those crystalline eyes were once more locked to his, relishing the submission in her posture, her very form. "Mine."

She did not speak for long moments, though she knew what he wanted; he had instilled it in her from the first day he'd agreed to the binding. "Yours, my Kel." Her head bowed submissively, a gesture similar to the one she'd used on Wormtail minutes before, the difference being that this one was real. Severus relaxed marginally, the gesture serving its desired purpose, soothing him. He gave a terse nod toward the bed. "I sleep on the left side. Do not disturb me if I read."

She took the dismissal for what it was, clever girl that she was, slipping out the door and across the hall to change. He seized advantage of the few brief moments to steel himself for the unique hell that lay ahead. A beautiful woman, his wife, in his bed… for weeks… and keeping his hands to himself. Why did the summer he'd so looked forward to now seem an insurmountable obstacle?


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note- **This chapter coming on the heels of the first and second, given I have had a bit of unforeseen free time to do some editing. As always, there is the chance of the odd typographical error sneaking in. And also, as ever, feedback (especially critical) is always welcome. Standard update days are Sundays and Wednesdays.

Rating is M for adult scenes, some overt smut, and no small amount of dark situations. The story is, as of the posting of this third chapter, standing at just shy of 11,000 words and just getting started. Projected completion will be in the 40-50K range total. I currently have no beta reader, but am open to anyone who is fool enough to volunteer for the position.

All terms and key plot points that are a bit fuzzy now will be explained as time goes on, scout's honor! Standard disclaimers apply. Only Sara is mine, along with the non-canon magical plot point of a Kelsalis and a Kel (one of those terms that will be explored further in coming chapters).

- Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Three

* * *

I begin to indulge myself of your delicacies  
Digesting semi-sweet dark chocolate decadence as it melts  
Dripping down my chin  
Your taste is something Godiva couldn't re-create - Jose Nunez- Bilingual

Sara slipped out of the washroom, her brow drawn into a tight frown, the robe belted at her waist snugly. She felt his eyes on her from the top of the stairs. A soft grunt greeted her ears as her hand rested on the knob of Severus's door, and she dared to glance over her shoulder. That man, Wormtail, stood there, his eyes focused on her feet. Sara's brows flew up to knit together in a distinct expression of disgust. Fortunately he did not seem to see it, so focused he was on her pink painted toenails. Sara's stomach rolled at the blatantly leering smile that was plastered on his face.

A soft whimper caught in her throat, her grip tightening on the knob until his voice cut through the quiet of the hall. "Who knew?" The appreciation in his voice sent a chill of revulsion up her spine. She inhaled sharply, glancing back to him as the knob turned in her grasp and the door was pulled open out of her grasp.

Severus filled the doorway, a scowl darkening his features. Sara was struck by just how tall he was. She was not accustomed to being in such close proximity to him, and the sheer size of his frame compared to hers brought an instant bolt of awareness to her. Her pulse kicked up a notch, her breathing growing shallower even as the soothing calm he exuded soothed her wearied mind. "Who knew what, Wormtail?"

Severus stepped into the hallway fully then, positioning himself between Sara and the man. In that instant she knew she'd done something terrible. Her brow drew into a tight frown as she slipped past him into the bedroom without waiting to be dismissed. To his credit though, Severus did not reprimand her, though as she pushed the door closed once more, leaving it cracked, their words, though muffled, drifted toward her. "That you had a wife, Snape. Let alone such a pretty piece of ass."

Sara's head shot up at the words, her eyes widening. That wretched little man! She saw red, unable to stop herself as she moved toward the door, throwing it open before considering the wisdom of her actions. Her usually tightly held control was shattered as she pushed past Severus and moved toward Wormtail. Perhaps it was fatigue, perhaps it was anger, perhaps it was the disgust at being leered at as if she were a piece of meat on display in a butcher's window, or perhaps, and most likely, she simply hated the rat on sight. Most likely though, it was sheer adrenaline, feminine overreaction personified. She wanted to hit something and here was her perfect chance.

She could feel Severus watching her in stunned silence as she gave a sound of pure and utter rage, the first and only time she'd completely fucking lost it in front of him. Ever. Her fist collided with the moron's face with as much force as she could muster, her heel coming down on his instep as she hurled the words at him. "Do I look like a piece of ass to you now, you vile little man?"

Power surged through her, her magic channeled into her anger on a purely instinctive level. Submissive? Another sharp jab to the man'st throat brought a gasp from behind her. She didn't care. She was on a roll now. Years of anger, of hurt, rejection... it was all reflected in the face of the man who was now turning the same color as her tomatoes in summer. He clenched at his throat even as his eye where she'd struck him began to turn purple. Docile? Her fury knew no bounds in that moment, the aged sconce beside her head exploding as she took another swing at his face, intent on giving him a matched set. Obedient? To one man and one man alone. All others could fucking bite her. The burst of adrenaline had herself flinging herself forward, the shards of glass that showered down around them smashing into a million pieces.

The man stumbled back as her fist connected with his face, though whether it was from the force of the blow or the surprise of it, she didn't know. Severus said nothing, merely stood there staring, agape in shocked silence. For once, he had no pithy come back as Sara suddenly found herself locked in an iron grip as strong arms slid around her waist, lifting her from her feet. Severus's silken drawl came, rife with amusement as he turned and placed her on her feet behind him once more. "I think he's just discovered, Madam, that my pretty piece of ass, as he so eloquently put it, is more than capable of defending her own honor, and I'm sure he'll watch his words next time." She expected anger, not amusement, and it sent her off balance. Her fingers clutched at his, struggling in his grip for a moment as he steadied her. "He was staring at my feet, the lech!" Her voice was a shrewish shriek, and it was in that moment she knew she was tired beyond reason. How silly she was being and yet she could not stop herself.

Severus's eyes bore into hers, a quiet rage seeping in that he masked so expertly beneath that amusement he'd managed to summon. "Then next time wear socks, Madam. Come… let's go to bed." With that he released her, giving her a gentle push toward the door. Wormtail wheezed at the top of the stairs, and as she crossed the threshold, Severus's voice came once more, drifting toward her as he addressed the other man. "When you next address my wife, you will do so with a great deal more respect, I'm sure. Next time, I may not be so merciful as to peel her off of you, Ingrate."

Sara stood in the center of the bedroom, staring toward the window on horror as she realized what she'd done. She'd attacked someone, granted the man was deserving if that, and more, simply by the expression on his face. Severus was livid, she'd known that the moment she looked in his eyes. The door closed behind him with a soft click as he re-entered the room. She didn't dare look at thim, her head dropping as she hugged her arms around herself. He would never strike her in anger, she knew that much, no matter how she wished he would. It would be so much better than the dreaded silence that filled most of the moments they spent together.

He did not speak as he stepped around her and toward the wardrobe, beginning to undress with methodical, calculated movements. Her eyes lifted, peering at him as she broke the silence. "I'm sorry." Still, he said nothing as he drew off the black outer robe he wore, the white dress shirt beneath pressed and starched and as spotless as she knew it had been when he'd donned it that morning. He hurled both toward the laundry hamper, and turned to stare at her, clad only in the black trousers that now hung loose about his hips, his belt in hand. His eyes burned with some unholy emotion. It was so rare that he was unguarded, and though she craved those moments as she craved breath, they never came. Now, when it did, it only confirmed what she had suspected all along. Her Kel was a truly rare man.

Those obsidian eyes bore into Sara, leaving her breathless as he paced toward her, Severus's voice a serpentine hiss, deadly and seductive, ensnaring her senses. "Do you realize what you've done? And on your first night here, you silly little girl." The words stung, though her confusion only mounted.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she shook her head. "Who is that man?" Surprise registered in his gaze as she questioned him. It was rule number two, don't ask questions, especially silly questions. She'd learned that one early. He came to a stop before her, his free hand rising to cup her cheek in a rare moment of physical contact. Sara had to resist the urge to flinch away. He'd vowed, in the beginning, never to strike her in anger, and true to his word he hadn't. But that didn't mean, by any stretch of the imagination, that he wouldn't someday snap. Sara had never known anyone wound as tight as Severus Snape. She'd just attacked his friend, demolished one of the sconces in the hallway, and worst of all, she had disrupted the peace and quiet that he prized above all else.

His voice was still soft as he spoke. "That man, silly chit, is a spy sent to watch me. Everything I do, we do, will be watched, reported on. Nothing we speak of is sacred, save what is in this room." Horror dawned in her eyes as she took in those words. "And even that is not sacrosanct." He was so close. She could smell the unique combination of sandalwood and fire that seemed to be a part of his makeup. The touch of his fingers to her cheek lulled her into a false sense of security, even as he spoke once more. "I can see now that a pleasant, uneventful summer was too much to hope for. Your presence wearies me, and it's far too late now to send you packing back to that precious University you love so dearly, my naive little darling." The words were tinged with venom and the acid lanced through her as a physical pain.

His fingers slipped to her chin, gripping suddenly, painfully. Sara's eyes fluttered closed in the face of the pang of want that the moment of discomfort brought, acutely aware of his nearness. "Look at me, Kelsalis." His voice hardened, the words hissed toward her, his anger burning in his eyes once more. "I had hoped the binding as it stands would be sufficient, however I cannot risk that imbecile discovering, much less attempting to exploit it. You have damned yourself, and you have damned me, and now all that I have worked for, all the expense, the risk, the efforts to keep you safe and untouchable, you have just shattered any hope you had of a life someday free of me, Sara." The explanation was unexpected, a small mercy unlike any consideration he usually gave, however the words unsettled her. She drew in a ragged breath, the rush of adrenaline that had led to her actions passing, leaving her cold and exhausted, and as usual, bereft of the smallest ounce of compassion even in the same room as the very man who was supposed to be her salvation.

"You will go to that vile little creature tomorrow, Sara, and you will offer him your most sincere apologies for your appalling behavior. You will then say to him that your services are, as ever, at the behest and pleasure of your husband and your husband alone." A flutter burst through her chest, the words given to her to repeat were hollow, meaningless, and yet still the image they conjured was profound, and as elusive as the man himself. When he continued, that silken voice dropped, his head lowered until only those onyx eyes filled her vision. "You will tell him that your husband is a man who gets violently jealous and possessive and suggest to him, in that sweet and subtle way of yours, that he'd do well to observe those traits more closely in the future."

Sara's brows knit together as she swallowed, tamping down on the words that wove around her as their own kind of magic, threatening to drag her beneath the surface of all that she knew and drown her in the sweetly cruel words he spoke. She drew in a breath, her lips parting as she forced the words out softly, another question. In for a penny, in for a pound, it would seem. "You want me to lie to him."

His lips compressed in a thin line, his expression unreadable though the acid in his voice rained down on her, veiled in warmth and shrouded in the impenetrable enigma that was her Kel. "No. None of that is untrue, in fact it is very true. As I told you earlier, I do not share my toys, and you are nothing if not my toy, Sara, to be used or neglected as I wish, when I wish, and in any way that pleases me. And it pleases me, silly girl, to keep control of my household. You will do this tomorrow and he will have no reason to doubt the truth of it."

In the next moment however, she understood what he was saying and her eyes snapped open once more, focusing on his face. Her breath caught within her chest as she stared at him. The power that bled from him, into her, poured forth from those obsidian orbs that held a world completely foreign to her. He stared at her a moment longer before his lips curved upward into a dark smirk. "You understand. Good. Tomorrow. Sleep, Kelsalis."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note- The flashbacks begins! **

Standard update days are Sundays and Wednesdays.

Rating is M for adult scenes, some overt smut, and no small amount of dark situations. The story is, as of the posting of this fourth chapter, standing at just shy of 11,000 words and just getting started. Projected completion will be in the 40-50K range total.

All terms and key plot points that are a bit fuzzy now will be explained as time goes on, scout's honor! Standard disclaimers apply. Only Sara is mine, along with the non-canon magical plot point of a Kelsalis and a Kel (one of those terms that will be explored further in coming chapters).

- Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Four

* * *

Needing every atom of your anatomy  
Necessity is placed upon me knowing you are the source of my serendipity  
Dipping in and out of me stroking more than my consciesness  
Subconsciously I find myself rewinding our love scenes  
In my daydreams  
Seeing that face you make when you're making me cum  
And it makes me want you right there and then

-Jose Nunez-Bilingual

* * *

Four years earlier

* * *

Snape stepped into the Headmaster's office, his eyes flicking toward the portraits that snoozed or daydreamed or conversed quietly among themselves. The sunlight that streamed into the window lit the room with an ethereal golden glow. The kind of day that would fuel never ending diatribes on possibility and many splendored things such as love and other such nonsense, if you were an optimist. Severus Snape, however, was no such optimist.

A realist to his core, he ached for one thing, and one thing only. Freedom. However, that was not to be, at least not this year, of all years, nor perhaps any other ever again. Severus gazed about himself, the clock that chimed the hour precisely marking eleven am. The sound of footsteps gained his attention and he turned toward the stairs. It was Dumbledore, and he was not alone. The young woman with him smiled, though the expression did not reach her pretty blue eyes. Severus knew immediately that something wasn't right with this picture. Dumbledore cleared his throat, giving his usual gentle smile. "Ah, Severus, good of you to come."

Snape blinked slowly, though nothing should really surprise him anymore. Albus merely smiled again, that same enigmatic expression that told nothing and everything all at once. "Severus, allow me to introduce to you Sara Creech." Severus's eyes sought out the girl once more. She didn't appear a day over twenty, if that. The haunted expression in her eyes though, that was something that spoke volumes more than her murmured words of greeting. Severus gave a curt nod, knowing without asking, that the girl had something to do with the reason he'd been called here. Dumbledore, however, was not to be rushed. He rested a hand on the girl's shoulder as he gestured toward Snape with his free hand. "Sara, this is Severus Snape. He's the Potions Master I was telling you about."

Snape's brow lifted as he waited in silence for the Headmaster to continue. Sure enough, that smile came again as faded blue eyes waved the girl off. "Sara, Minerva is waiting to show you the astronomy tower. I'm sure you will find it of great interest. Why don't you go with her and Severus and I will meet you here after lunch to discuss things further." The girl's gaze flicked back to him and Snape found himself further ensnared in those eyes. For a moment, he thought he saw a flare of something, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. She smiled brightly, though did not launch into a speech as one might expect, that smile being one that he'd only ever seen on perpetually cheerful and especially annoying people. Without so much as a single word, she inclined her head toward Severus, the movement deferential, respectful. He affixed a scowl on his face, waiting until she'd disappeared through the door and down the stairs to speak. "Headmaster, I must admit I am a bit at a loss."

"Sit down, Severus." Snape did so automatically, having learned long ago to pick his battles with this man. The Headmaster moved behind his desk and reached toward the ground, lifting the knitting needles he'd stashed there, placing the ball of yarn into his lap. Severus didn't even bat an eyelash as the man began to work at the lavender scarf, afghan, what-the-hell-ever that was. Snape held his silence as he waiting. The Headmaster's needles clicked in the silence of the room, long minutes passing before he broke the quiet to speak gently. "Sara is a Kelsalis." To his credit, for once, the old man didn't beat around the bush. The words however, rendered Severus quite speechless.

Dumbledore didn't even pause in his knitting, glancing up over the rim of his glasses as he continued. "Didn't think they really existed, did you?" Severus did not so much as twitch a single muscle, his mind reeling from what Dumbledore had just said, he could only stare in disbelief. Kelsalis. It was a word rarely uttered outside the circles of those who were either wealthy beyond belief or mad as Alice's Hatter.

He drew in a breath, his expression shifting to one of carefully schooled neutrality. "I'm not sure what you mean." That's it Severus, play thoughts ran rampant, though of course, Dumbledore wouldn't fall for it.

The older man spoke calmly once more, needles clicking together in that maddening ticking sound. "A Kelsalis. Surely you've come across it in your reading."

"Of course, but there's no such thing. It's only a myth, Albus." Even as he spoke the words, Severus's heart sank in his chest. The old man was not only up to something, but meant to involve him. Sweet heavens, did the scheming never end? The man knew just how to play with him, to arouse his curiosity, usually yanking him into one of his grand plans in the process. As always, Severus found himself unable to stop the words that burst forth from him. "Ah, let me guess. Of course all myths have some basis in fact, and so on and so forth. Just out with it."

"Patience, Severus, patience." Dumbledore rummaged in his desk as if he had all the time in the world. "Now, where did those scissors go. I knew I had some just last night." He lowered the knitting needles to his lap as he began to shuffle the pages that littered the desk's surface. "Of course it has a basis in fact, Severus. Such things may be rare, but they certainly are not extinct. Centuries ago they were used as a kind of bartering chip, a currency, if you will. However, in this day and age, they are no more or less prevalent than they were in times past. However, they have become far more cautious, and far more secretive."

Snape listened, alarm bells rising within him as his jaw tightened. "And so the girl is one of those… things." He concluded right back where they'd begun. He suspected, at times, that Dumbledore talked in riddles and circles mostly just to wear down the enemy. And those time, like now, Snape had to wonder who the enemy really was.

Dumble at last emerged from the pile of papers with a triumphant sound. "Aha! There they were, slippery buggers." He clipped the lavender thread and returned the scissors to their proper resting place in a desk drawer. "Indeed, Sara is one of those 'things', Severus. However, unlike most Kelsalis, she was claimed at a very young age as a part of a contract. It would seem, that the contract, was allowed to fall to the wayside, until recently. She's a bright girl, Severus, and in a spot of trouble. If it is not handled precisely, Sara, and her power with her, will fall to the wrong hands."

Christ. Here it came. Snape sighed heavily, his voice weary as he resisted the urge to slump in his chair. "And what's this to do with me?" Don't say it… please don't say it… Severus's mind screamed the words, though he knew it would do no good. So instead, he merely stared blankly toward Dumbledore. He was not disappointed.

"I think you know that already, Severus." The words were punctuated by a soft chuckle. "The precise circumstances are not for me to explain, it would be the deepest possible violation of her confidence. However, suffice it to say, you are her greatest hope, even if she does not know it yet. And besides, it would do you some good."

"What would do me good?" Snape grasped at the last straw as a dying man. Perhaps he would not be asked to do what he suspected Dumbledore was heading for. "Having a slave would do me good? To do what? Cook and clean and annoy the living shit out of me? I have precious few years left of my life, Albus and damned if I'm going to spend them having a simpering female with one thing on her mind puppy dogging my every step."

Dumbledore stilled across from him, that shrewd gaze sharpening. "Severus, you're being a bit overly dramatic. A Kelsalis is not a slave, nor have I seen any evidence that Sara 'simpers' as you so eloquently put it." A flick of his wand was given and a lemon candy floated from the dish on the corner of his desk toward him. He lowered his wand and caught it smoothly, that same infuriating smile rising once more. "Can you imagine, Severus, the damage that could be done with that kind of magic? If others got their hands on her? Do you know what was done to women such as her in the past?"

Snape could feel it happening. The old bastard knew just where to hit. The Headmaster may appear kindly and harmless, but he was sharp as a tack and just as relentless as a dog with a bone. He forged onward, ruthless as he continued. "Those who were unfortunate enough to be bonded to men of great power often found themselves the source of study, the source of pleasure turned to something darker. I've read the records… "

"As have I." Severus muttered the words, his jaw tightening. "Is it true then, that a bonded Kelsalis loses free will?" Better to know just what he was getting himself into.

Dumbledore shook his head with a chuckle. "Not at all. The stories are often just that, stories. To each Kelsalis there are many facets, the sensual side being only a small portion. Exploit one facet over the other and …." He trailed off into silence for a moment. "There are only a handful of hard and fast truths that can not be changed within the context of the bond. First and foremost, a Kelsalis bonds for life. Once the bond is complete, she is at the mercy of her Kel."

"Kel?" He lifted a brow, the first real interest flickering in his eyes.

Dumbledore smirked as he relaxed back in his seat, popping the lemon candy into his mouth. "Just as a sword requires a sheath, so does the sheath require the sword, Severus. Her mate, her Kel, is required to maintain the bond, to enforce the structure in which a Kelsalis thrives. They are naturally submissive women, wholly unwavering in their loyalty once bonded, it is no small task I ask of you."

Snape scrubbed at his face as he finally yielded to the urge to slump. His jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth, glaring daggers at the older wizard. "And the other rules?"

"Not so much rules really, my boy. More…considerations." He toyed with the plastic wrapper he held in his hand. "Only certain considerations, which as her Kel, would be within your power to act on. A Kelsalis knows pleasure only at the hands of her Kel, after all. It is a most powerful form of magical bonding, and I'm certain you will not forget that."

Snape drew in a breath, his summer of quiet at Spinner's End disappearing as a thief in the night, and the promise of respite and peace along with it. He straightened in his chair, giving a sigh. "Very well. When?"

Dumbledore didn't even appear fazed. He merely smiled mildly once more. "There are certain considerations which Sara would like taken into account before the union proceeds. For instance, her education." He cut a glance toward Severus. "She attends a University in the States and has a bit of time still left. She would like to return there to finish her degree."

Severus felt, in that instant, a weight lift from his shoulders, answering all too quickly. "Fine. Of course. That will take her off my hands for a year at least. She can stay in the United States and finish her education. " He paused for a moment, struck by a sudden idea. "In fact, she can pursue her education as far as she wishes. At least until this matter with the Dark Lord is settled once and for all and my obligations to other matters are fulfilled."

Disappointment filtered across Dumbledore's face though he gave no argument. "She also wishes to wait a while before the possibility of bearing children arises."

Snape shook his head immediately. "We both know I will not be alive that long, and I have no desire to breed. What else?"

There came a moment's silence before Albus spoke again. "She wishes me to tell you that your proclivities privately would be protected by her vow of confidence, however she would like to entreat you not to leave marks where they could be seen by others, if those marks are caused by discipline."

Snape couldn't help himself. His mouth snapped closed as a world of dark possibility opened up before him. He frowned, grinding out the words. "I do not hit women in anger, Albus."

"Of course, Severus. I told her as much, however as her representative in this negotiation, such as it is, I am obliged to pass on her request." He gave a light smirk before rising from his chair. "I believe that covers everything. Sara will be returning shortly, I believe. Be nice, Severus." There was a warning note in the old man's voice.

He scoffed as he retorted instantly, automatically. "I'm always nice." He paused for a moment before shaking his head. "Don't say a word. Let's just get this over with."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note/Warning - **This scene contains lemony goodness. However be warned, this is not vanilla flavored lemons for the faint of heart. To be blunt... if you like it when people are tied up during smexy fun time, read on. If not... hang in there until Chapter six is posted later today!

Standard update days are Sundays and Wednesdays.

Only Sara is mine, along with the non-canon magical plot point of a Kelsalis and a Kel (one of those terms that will be explored further in coming chapters).

- Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Five

* * *

As wetness develops my legs begin to open

and my spark turns to a backdraft

and all I want you to do is extinguish it

You know my body like the back of your hands

And touch me and send me into ecstacy

-Jose Nunez- Bilingual

* * *

The damn woman slept like a rock. She'd curled into a ball beside him falling asleep almost the instant her head hit the pillow. Severus however, had not been nearly so lucky. The decision had been made in an instant, and he knew without a doubt he would regret it. She'd stood before him, those ice blue eyes blazing with righteous indignation. She was magnificent and in that moment he had wanted nothing more than to lace his belt around her throat and draw her closer with it, to demonstrate for her that HE was to be the center of her focus, not the misguided words of the cretin sleeping across the hall.

It would be so much easier if she were not all that she was. A Kelsalis was a rare breed indeed, and the very reason he'd agreed to the binding was to avoid her being forced into the one arranged for her. He could still hear the conversation, see it as if it were only yesterday, rather than years in the past, when Dumbledore had so skillfully manipulated him, played him as though he were merely a pawn in a game of wizard's chess. He did that so easily, even now. Severus drew in a breath, pushing himself up in the bed, sleep more elusive tonight than it had been in years. It was a game, but the stakes were higher than ever and the cost of losing... unthinkable.

Sara shifted in the bed beside him, drawing him back from his thoughts. Severus lowered his gaze to her. Four years and he'd never more than touched her in passing. It was the first night he'd ever spent in the same bed as the woman who belonged to him. Her breathing was slow and steady, her eyes closed in the slumber that had come so easily. Her eyes moved behind her eyelids as she dreamed and idly he wondered what she dreamed of. His gaze shifted toward the night table, his wand laying there, nestled beside hers. It was an odd contrast, the ebony wood, worn smooth over the years stood out starkly beside the pale slender cedar wand that was just a few centimeters shorter.

Severus moved without conscious decision, his wand lifted to hover over her temple. It was a violation of privacy for anyone else, and yet where it concerned her, it was merely another of those things he was permitted to do, one of the particular perks granted to him in the contract, to ensure her unwavering loyalty. It was a power and a freedom he relished. He whispered the word so softly it barely touched the air. "Legilimens." Instantly, he was there. She granted him access by ease of sleep, or perhaps, the bond itself. She was here, in this very room, though what he saw shocked him to his core, aroused him, and instantly sent a surge of anger ripping through him.

She was beneath him, naked and writhing. He heard himself whisper words such as only existed in his darkest fantasies, but never employed with any woman for fear of being beaned in the skull with a blunt object. All the while, Sara whimpered, pleaded, purred, and begged for more. Begged him. HIM. That same surge of power that lingered anytime he was near to her, it burgeoned now as the darkness of the room in her dream receded and he was able to make out fingerprints on her neck, bruises on her thighs, her back, her wrists. He could all but smell the scent of sex as it lingered in the air.

He pulled back, the dream threatening his already threadbare control. He watched his dream self slam into her once more and jealousy threatened to consume him. He roared, unheard, and broke the connection, finding himself back on his own side of the bed. Dreams were the subconscious, she had no control over them. Severus knew that intellectually, but four years of being taunted took its toll. Her dream of him had tasted what he'd been denying himself. Ridiculous, to be jealous of a figment of her imagination. He slammed his wand onto the bedside table, Sara startling awake beside him, shooting upright in the bed, her eyes wide and wild, confused as the last remnants of her dream slipped away, giving rise to consciousness. "What is it? What's wrong?" Her lyrically accented voice cracked from the surprise that had ripped her from her slumber.

Cold intent settled over Severus, his gaze moving to flick over her little form. The pale pink tanktop she wore and the soft flannel trousers did nothing to deter him. The covers fell to her waist as her bewildered gaze settled on him, her cheeks flushed. He moved in an instant, no longer caring or able to stop himself. He pinned her to her back in the next moment, his teeth bared as his vaunted control snapped completely. "So that's how it is? That's what you dream of? Me fucking you?" Severus's words struck her to her core, he felt it echoed to his own belly, though there was no horror from the crudeness he spoke, merely astonishment that she was in such a position. Severus gripped his wand, murmuring the words softly to cast the spell that bound her wrists in place over her head. She struggled for only a moment before the realization of what he intended set in and that's when he heard it… a whimper.

Any thoughts of foreplay were driven from him in that moment. His cock was hard, heavy with need. She tugged at the magical bindings, her eyes widening as he nuzzled his nose against her lips. "It's what you wanted, isn't it?" His hips rocked against hers and his fingers tightened on his wand, his free hand settling at her hip to grip the ridiculous flannel pants and jerk them downward, the ridiculous lace panties she wore ripped down the line of her body with him. His fingers swept up the line of her thigh before he gripped the tanktop and twisted it within his grasp until it fell away. She was exposed and vulnerable in the span of only a heartbeat.

A soft gasp emitted from her at the first touch of his hand to her bare flesh. The darkness that threatened to consume him, the taint of power he craved pushed to the forefront as his fingers painted a deceptively lazy pattern over the soft plane of her belly. Her nipples hardened to tight peaks as her lips worked soundlessly. "That's it, writhe for me, girl." Her responding whimper drove him over the edge.

His fingers slid to the soft petals of her sex, a groan caught in his chest as he realized the very physical effect her dream had taken on her body. She was wet and hot and ready for him. How had he never done this before? The heady scent of her arousal made his cock jerk inside the confines of his sleep pants. He forged onward, merciless as ever. "You're absolutely dripping, are you that needy, that depraved, little Sara?" Her eyes flickered to life as she whimpered once more, her hips jerking against his fingers.

He clicked his tongue at her, head lowering to murmur the words in her ear, ruthless and no longer caring about anything save the sweet surrender of the woman beneath him. "You want this." Sara's answer came only in the form of wordless pleadings. "Beg for it. Beg me, Sara. Beg me to fuck you."

She gasped again, the words tripping off her lips. "Please. Please, I need it. Need you … ple..please." His eyes slammed closed at the first panting groan she gave, her hips moving in a primal rhythm as his forefinger brushed over her clit.

Severus's lips curved into a dark, feral grin. "No. Beg me properly. Say the words, Sara. Beg me to fuck you. Say it… beg to be body betrays you, but I want to hear the words."

His cock jumped as the first tear slipped down her cheek. One long finger circled her entrance before breeching the tight channel, pushing in just a fraction, teasing her with what was to come. Her words were sobbed out against his ear, like a balm to his soul, sending him hurtling headlong into an entirely foreign place, a level of power and arousal he'd only visited in the darkest of his dreams, the total yielding of a woman to his will, helpless and willing. "Yes. I need it. Please, Severus, fuck me. Please fuck me." Her words were all he needed, all he wanted. He withdrew his hand, his head bowing once more as he pushed the pajama pants over his hips, only enough to free his aching cock. He gripped her behind the knees, planting one hand on the bed beside her head, his eyes burning into her own as he snarled the words. "Look at me, Sara."

Without a singled word, she shuddered. Those iceblue eyes stared up at him, glazed over and uncontrolled, a far cry from the usually reserved, quiet woman that he had known for years, but now realized with new clarity, had never _really _known. She bucked beneath him at the first contact of his cock against her bare heat. He murmured the words softly, allowing the first tendrils of pleasure to bolt down her spine. "Kelsalis fotuna." Her body seized beneath him, the spell gripping her as he settled himself at her entrance. He bared his teeth as he watched her writhing, felt her belly clenching beneath him as she came. Her cries intensified as he ground his hips against hers, her slick folds raking against his cock. He shifted his hips an instant later, only enough to led the head of his length rest against her entrance. He murmured the words gently once more, the cruelly sweet tinge of power shooting through him as she came once more. "Kelsalis fortuna."

She screamed then, his hips snapping forward as he drove his full length inside her spasming body. Her walls clutched at him, the natural resistance of her channel clamping down on the invader. He tore through the fragile proof of her virginity and the realization that she'd truly been loyal to him took hold. The violent realization of what he'd just done gripped him even as her body shuddered beneath him roared through im. Something primal took hold of him as he held himself still inside her, hissing the words at her. "Mine, Sara. Mine." He ground out the words as he withdrew from her, the slick, swollen passage that gripped his cock so tightly drawing him beyond rational thought. "Mine." He repeated the words as he slammed back into her, taking her once more, claiming her from the inside out.

The tiny woman beneath him sobbed in earnest, the frustration of denial of her pleasure for so long evident. He was drunk on the power she'd sworn to him, the magic that bound them and he loved every minute of it. "Again, Witch." She was not repulsed by the words, her body clenching around him as he fucked her, her sweet walls tightening around him as he began to batter into her with no thought to her comfort. She cried out, her submission to him complete in that moment, her body surrendering without argument as he hammered into her. Her form was driven downward toward the mattress as he hurled the words at her, making no effort to censor himself any longer. "Temptress, is this what you fucking wanted, my little witch? To be pinned and fucked? Used?"

He was too far gone to hear cruelty in his words, though the slickness of her body seemed to answer him with each taunt. She was enjoying it, he realized this fully, the last vestiges of his control snapping as he fucked her with the abandon he'd only dreamed of in his darkest moments. "Isn't this what you dreamed of, Sara? Hm? How many times, I wonder, have you had the same futile dream only to wake aching and needy?"

Just when he was sure he'd gone too far, he heard it. The soft pleas converted to words then. "Please, please… need it…" Her misery was real in that moment as he understood fully for the first time just what the old bastard had meant. She was, it was now discovered, literally incapable of feeling pleasure without his permission. It was the ultimate power.

He snarled the words at her, his voice guttural and cruel, the base, primal part of him that used her body to his pleasure now fully taken over. "What do you need, Sara?" He wanted to see just how depraved his little virgin harlot truly could be. He slammed his length into her abused channel once more, holding himself still, the silken walls slick and swelling against him. "Your pleasure is by my pleasure. Everything you are, everything you'll be, everything is by my hand, Sara. When I get what I want, yhou get what you want. Tell me what you need, beg for it, and I'll give it to you."

Her words however, pierced him to his very core, sending him spiraling out of control. "Need..." Her hips jerked beneath his, clumsily seeking to impale herself further on his length. He bit back a groan, the words she finally managed to push out sending a bolt of desire straight through him anew. "Yours." It was his darkest fantasy. She clutched at him as his cock twitched within her and he withdrew once more, no longer caring that he would leave bruises, her body battered beneath his as a ragdoll.

"Good. You finally understand." He slammed into her once more, snarling the words as pleasure unfurled at the base of his spine. Her walls clamped down on him as she convulsed beneath him, his length impaling her, the sheer obscenity of it all, the hedonistic pleasure sending him hurtling headlong over the edge of some unknown precipice. He lifted his head, his body shuddering as he felt the first pulsing of his cock inside her, releasing his seed into her. Severus bared his teeth as he groaned, though spoke nothing, dark eyes glittering with unveiled emotion in that moment, emotion he made no effort to hide. Ice blue eyes locked to his own half-lidded and glazed. Her response was a ragged sob as her walls clenched at him once more, milking his cock in a way that made his most depraved fantasies come to life. His hips slammed into hers reflexively as he uttered the words softly. "You understand."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note/Warning - **Chapter Six - The things of which awkward morning afters are made.

Standard update days are Sundays and Wednesdays.

Only Sara is mine, along with the non-canon magical plot point of a Kelsalis and a Kel (one of those terms that will be explored further in coming chapters).

- Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Six

* * *

My thighs quiver in anticipation of deep penetration which gets me high  
Body rising  
Sweating  
Panting  
Make-up melting  
Pulling my hair and  
Scratching my back  
I get a temporary case of tourettes because all I can say are four letter words in a four octave-range screaming your name  
-Jose Nunez - Bilingual

* * *

Sara scrubbed at her eyes as she woke, knowing instantly something was different. Her brow drew tight into a frown as she gazed about herself as if trying to remember something very important. She pushed herself into a seated position on the bed, the ache between her thighs as she moved bringing it all back in a rush. Severus. She gasped, one hand moving to her mouth to stifle the sound as she lifted her head, pale eyes flicking around the room as though expecting him to pop out of the shadows. Once she realized she was alone, she relaxed marginally, though her body screamed at her, sore muscles attesting to the rough treatment she'd endured.

Her mind though, there was a sense of peace about it, the ease of years of tension. So _that_ was what the fuss was about, what an orgasm felt like. Or orgasms, as the case had certainly been. Her eyes moved to the table beside the bed, the little bottles that had appeared as she slept catching her eye. They rested just beside her wand, a little scrap of paper propped up against them. The precise, almost militaristic handwriting instantly betrayed who had written it. She lifted it, squinting at it in the dim light of the room. The two words though, offered Sara no insight into the state of mind of the man who'd written them. "Well done. –S."

Sara lowered the note. Her mind which had been previously so peaceful, almost as though drugged from the after effects of the events of the night, now spun out like a broomstick careening off course. Was he taunting her? Mocking her? She frowned once more, cursing as she reached for the two bottles. The larger of the two she recognized as a simple pain draught, the second… her face reddened as she cleared her throat, was a powerful contraceptive. She resisted the temptation to put both bottles and the note right back where she'd found them, pretend she hadn't seen the attempt to see to her comfort. It was unsettling, this sudden change in dynamic. And frankly, Sara hated the mere idea that the status quo had shifted.

Common sense, however, prevailed and both of the solutions were dutifully downed before she pushed herself out of the bed, landing with bare feet on the cold wooden floor. She grabbed for her robe, wrapping it around herself, acutely aware that while he'd left her something for the ache, he'd left her nothing for the bruises that now decorated her hips. No one would see, but she would certainly be aware. Perhaps that was what he wanted. It must be. Her frown deepened for a moment before she shook her head and pushed the thoughts away. No sense worrying over what was done. She donned the formality that she wore every summer, a somber robe of disdain that masked her from the barbs and the inevitable disappointment.

She would act as if nothing were different. After all, nothing _was _different, really. Not at the core of the situation. Severus was simply Severus. He would always be as he was. Distant. Cold. Angry. Sara turned to the bed, stripping the sheets that still bore the evidence of their activities. She understood now, at least in part, that the vile little man who seemed to have a foot fetish was a genuine threat, somehow. She set about putting the room to rights, stuffing the sheets into the laundry hamper and grabbing something blindly from the wardrobe before slipping across the hall for a shower.

Twenty minutes later found her emerging once more from the bedroom, damp hair pulled into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, the wicker hamper hugged to her chest as body armor. She moved as quietly as she could, bare feet now ensconced in socks, her jeans brushing the floor. The oversized men's dress shirt she wore was made even lumpier by the thick sweater. July. It was July for heaven's sake and she was freezing.

Sara paused at the top of the stairs, laundry in hand, listening for whatever might greet her. Something in her hesitated to make an appearance, and a thread of homesickness for her little house where things were as she liked, untouched by the memory of a dark scowl or obsidian eyes. She drew herself up to her full height and thudded her way down the stairs, caution forgotten as she announced her presence with the heavy thunk of her footsteps.

As she rounded the bottom of the stairs and made her way down the long hall toward the door to the cellar, she paused. His lab was in the cellar. Shit. Facing Severus Snape post-passion before her first cup of coffee was like facing a firing squad without a last meal. No matter how you cut it, it just sucked. A rattling of pots and pans from the kitchen alerted her to the location of the foot-fetish bastard. The mental image of a black eye brought a devious curling to her lips. Sara relaxed marginally. His bruises would no doubt be gone with some potion or paste or other. But at least she'd gotten a few good shots in.

Resolutely, Sara tugged the door to the cellar open and made her way down the steep stairs, the steps creaking beneath her weight and shattering any chance of making it in and out undetected. She descended into the basement cum lab, anxiety unfurling in her belly. Severus sat at the table on the far side, his hair pulled away from his face, tied snugly with what appeared to be a black leather string. Sara said nothing, but knew he knew she was there. She turned to the ancient washing machine and lowered the hamper to the ground, crouching beside it as she began sorting the laundry.

"You don't have to do that, you aren't a housekeeper." His voice, like silk, held a distracted note as he leaned to consult the book propped open before him. Sara frowned faintly and shook out the sheets as she turned her back to him, giving no answer.

Silence reined for a moment before he spoke again, his voice now bearing a note of irritation. "Pettigrew lives in my spare room. He eats my food. He breathes my air and he invades my space. HE can do the damn laundry as well."

Sara released a sigh, the first signs of anger rising within her. What had she expected? Kindness? Solicitude? She knew better, but a bit of civility would not be remiss. Her chin lifted, hands stilling as she held the sheets, staring toward them pensively. She didn't realize how many seconds had passed, lost in her own thoughts as she held her tongue. So absorbed in her fight to remain silent was she, that she didn't register his abandoning his work to move to stand behind her. He did not touch her, though his voice may as well have been his hands on her body branding her all over again. "Leave it, Sara."

Rule number one. Unquestioning obedience. The one rule she never violated. Rule number two. Don't ask stupid questions. And rule number three… when addressed, answer. Sara bit her lower lip, her movements jerky as she quietly pushed the sheets into the washing machine and leaned to reach for the detergent on the shelf beside her. His fingers closed over her wrist, his words a hiss. "I said, leave it." His voice never rose, his fingers gentle in their grasp despite the unrelenting ice in his tone.

Sara squeezed her eyes closed. Rule number four. Never argue. She drew in a breath, her voice soft, placating as she fought to moderate her tone. "The sheets are stained." She glanced over her shoulder, unflinchingly meeting his eyes. Her tone remained neutral, though this time, she could not stop the hardened edge that entered her voice. "I thought you would not want… private matters made common knowledge to your guest."

She watched as his eyes shifted, betraying him. His face remained completely expressionless, though those onyx orbs belied the progression from confusion and indignation of her disobedience to understanding, and surprisingly, a split second of gratitude. His grip on her hand was released as he took a step back, cool gaze flicking over what she wore. When he spoke again, his voice was as cold as ever. "You dress in a most unappealing manner." Her eyes widened, cheeks reddening at the words. Anger bolted through her as she trembled. She drew in a breath, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she repeated the words to herself. _Rule four. Rule four._

When her eyes opened once more, she thought she saw a gleam of amusement in his own gaze, the slightest twitching of his lips, though she must have imagined it because when she blinked her was once more the same stone cold statue she'd been bonded to for four years. She turned to the washing machine once more, flicking the detergent cap into the machine and letting the lid fall closed without bothering to try to soften the loud clang as she twisted the dial of the aging machine. He spoke once more, his voice low. "Eat breakfast. Be ready to go in half an hour. We're going out."

She paused, her eyes lighting on his face as she spun around, confusion written over her features uncensored as she stared at him stunned. In three years prior, all three summers, they'd never once left the house together. In general, they went their separate ways, only occasionally even being in the same room. She stared at him, her mouth moving silently as she fought for words. He lifted a brow as though daring her to challenge his word. Sara simply snapped her mouth closed and breathed out the words toward him, taking a smug satisfaction in his own moment of confusion. "Rule four." With that she snatched up the hamper and turned to make her way up the stairs once more, a moment of triumph pervading her being, leaving him in, she hoped, as much confusion as he aroused in her as well.

* * *

Sara gripped Severus's arm as they appareted with a distinct pop. Her stomach rolled, her grip tightening on his arm for a moment, drawing a curious glance from him. Immediately she loosened her fingers and dropped her arm to her side, doing her best to summon a smile. She recognized instantly where they were at, the narrow crowded street seeming as if they had not changed or modernized with the rest of the world as the centuries had passed around them. Diagon Alley. She frowned faintly as Severus set off in some unknown direction, trailing after him as she hurried to keep up with his long strides.

She'd brought no robes with her, only the plain muggle clothing she was so accustomed to wearing at all other times. His ban on her magic when she was away from him was, he'd claimed at the first, for her own protection. Now though, she had to wonder if it wasn't only the need for control of everything around him that had spurred that edict, or if he even remembered passing it. Sara damn near bumped into him as he glanced across the street, and began to weave his way through the crowd, head and shoulders above her.

When he came to a stop once more, Sara wedged herself around his side, sidling between a goblin wearing a top hat and robed and a tall, lanky man with the most bleached hair she'd ever seen. Nature just didn't come in that color, she was pretty damn sure. Severus's fingers closed around her wrist, hauling her behind him as he tugged open the door of a small shop, the tinkling of bells announcing their entrance.

Severus spoke not a word as the squat little woman emerged from behind the counter. "Ah! A good day to you both! Welcome, welcome!" Her enthusiasm and sheer friendliness was a bit of a shock after almost 24 hours in Severus's dour company. "Professor Snape, how good to see you again. But it's not yet August, you aren't due for your fittings for another month and a half!" Her smile broadened when she caught sight of Sara cowering behind Severus.

He gave her wrist another firm tug, indicating she should emerge. Sara now understood just what the little trip was about. Was it possible that Severus, in his own awkward way, was trying to be kind? Sara's eyes widened as she stared, googly-eyed, toward him. He spoke firmly, though not unkindly, to the older witch. "Madam Malkin, always a pleasure." There was a new smoothness to his voice, and for the first time, Sara heard a tinge of affection for a living person. She snapped her mouth shut as she attempted to summon a smile, ducking her head toward the woman in greeting. Severus continued a bit less formally. "My wife requires new clothing. As you can see, she's been with the muggles too long. Something suitable for every day, I think, and a set of dress robes as well. One never knows when the occasion calls for it."

"Married? Well, congratulations, Professor! Never thought you to be one to settle down, so dedicated to the children." Her words were a cooing, and though Sara suspected it pained him not to contradict the witch, his lips curved upward into a tight, humorless smile.

He spoke the words as smoothly as if nothing were amiss. "Indeed. Thank you. The robes, Madam Malkin? I assume you have something fitting."

Severus released his hold on her hand, pushing her forward. Sara swallowed hard, assailed by the good cheer that the effusive older witch exuded. Her smile was infectious and Sara caught herself stifling a giggle as she allowed herself to be led through the racks of clothes toward the rear of the store. "Now then, Dear, what size do you wear? What was your house? Do you have a favorite style?"

Sara's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment as she glanced back toward Severus. His expression held no smile, yet she found herself thinking that just maybe, his gaze had softened a tiny bit. In the next moment though, it was gone and his face was once more as hard as stone. Sara cleared her throat and turned her full attention on the woman beside her. "I'm not sure about my size. Short and … small, I'm afraid. House… we didn't have those at my school, and I prefer things that aren't too tight. The looser the better."

"Something a bit more flattering, Madam Malkin. Try blue." Damn, but the man had the hearing of a hawk. Sara glanced back at him in confusion as Madam Malkin smiled toward Severus. "I'll take care of it, Professor. Perhaps you'd like to give us an hour? I'm sure you would rather run your errands than watch two witches nattering on about fashion."

There was a moment of doubt in his eyes, before he gave a nod. "I'll come back in an hour. Needless to say, I'll want to see everything before we conclude the transaction. My wife's taste is a bit different from my own and I should very much prefer to have input in where my money will go." With that he inclined his head with that same icy formality before turning to go, leaving Sara alone to the tender mercies of the zealous seamstress.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note/Warning - **Chapter Seven - Some startling realizations.

Standard update days are Sundays and Wednesdays.

Only Sara is mine, along with the non-canon magical plot point of a Kelsalis and a Kel (one of those terms that will be explored further in coming chapters).

- Snow

NanamiYatsumaki- The evolution of the characters is precisely what the story is driven by in this one. Thank you for the lovely reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter especially. -Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Seven

* * *

You fucking me makes me bilingual - Jose Nunez - Bilingual

* * *

Snape used his time wisely, as he always did. An hour later found him having attended to his business at the apothecary as well as the bookstore. He returned to Madam Malkin's with the evidence of his shopping. Two new books and a new order of ingredients placed. All in all, a productive day. He drew in a breath, fortifying himself against the inevitable discomfort that assailed him in Sara's presence. What had possessed him to take the woman shopping? She had never worn anything with shape to it, nothing that called attention to her figure or the curves that he now knew lay beneath them.

When he'd first caught sight of her that morning, something inside him had snapped. She was a reflection of him, of his ability to keep a wife well. How had she gone about dressed that way for years and not noticed? It niggled at him, not only that he'd not noticed, but that he suddenly _had _and more than that, he had found himself irritated by his lack of attention to her physical appearance. He frowned, an expression he wore perpetually when in her presence. The unsettling arousal that had eaten at him had not been banished from their encounter the previous night. In fact, it had only intensified. He knew now, just what she was capable of, and damned if he didn't want more.

But to begin, he had to at least make her presentable, even if he was the only person she would see. The woman, for some reason, never left the house on any of her visits, save for her weekly trip to the supermarket. Any other time, she had kept herself locked away in the spare room. Dimly, Severus wondered if that was his fault as well. And what on earth had she meant when she'd spoken of "Rule four"? How very odd.

He re-entered the shop, the wrapped books he carried tucked beneath his arm. The bells rang out, high and tinkling, announcing his arrival and a moment later Madam Malkin's gray head popped out from the fitting room. "Ah! Professor! You're just in time. We're finishing up the fitting of her dress robes. And I must say, she looks absolutely lovely, Dear." Only Madam Malkin could get away with calling him that and escape the death glare that would send lesser women running.

The sound of feminine conversation drifted toward him from the fitting room. Severus gave a nod as the dressmaker's head popped back into the changing room, the buzz of female voices now tinged with laughter. A frown tugged at his forehead once more as he realized he knew the voice. Sara. He'd never heard her laugh before. Guilt unthreaded in him for a split second. He'd never given her reason to laugh, he now realized. For an instant, it hit him, with such startling clarity. He'd never given her a reason to laugh, to smile, to talk freely or converse. She was quiet and observant of his space and privacy, never interfering, never questioning, and never overstepping. In fact, now that he thought of it, the woman damn near tiptoed around him. Was he really that bad?

Severus had no time to study the revelation when a moment later Madam Malkin appeared, followed by Sara. The third voice was explained a moment later and Severus could feel the blood drain from his face as Narcissa Malfoy appeared just behind them. Where Narcissa was, Lucius was undoubtedly not far behind. Severus schooled his expression into one of careful neutrality, his gaze moving to rest on Sara's small form. He detected no discomfort from her, in fact, she was completely at ease as she laughed softly at some small joke shared with the other two women.

When her eyes caught his though, she quieted instantly, her head dropping. How had he missed that change in her before? Ridiculous. He'd never hurt her, save for the natural pain she'd endured for a few seconds the night before, never treated her anymore harshly than he had anyone else, and yet in his presence, she had shut down and wilted like a flower denied sunlight. Rage enveloped him instantly, a surge of undefinable anger that had no readily identifiable source, and no target. It passed within a moment though, as he looked at her, really looked.

His wife, there was no doubt, was a stunning woman. She'd kept a killer figure beneath her dowdy muggle clothing. What's more, she was delicate, almost fragile. Even beside the breathtaking, carefully bred beauty of Narcissa, Sara was stunning. Gone were the jeans and frumpy sweater she'd hidden behind. She stood before him now, her hands folded before her in a royal blue dress. Almost muggle in design, it was modest, with a stand up collar that almost brushed her ears. The modesty did not end there however, the fabric gathered just beneath the line of her breasts, which no longer looked quite so small, and fell to her mid-shin. A dainty pair of gold slippers were on her feet now, making her appear so delicate as to almost seem breakable. His lips curved into a feral smile for a moment as the urge to dismiss the other two women and lay the little brunette over the counter struck him, from nowhere.

Narcissa broke his reverie with a soft laugh. "Our dear Severus looks besotted, and why wouldn't he?" She approached him with a gentle smile, one hand rising to pat his hand affectionately. "Severus, you've been a very naughty man, keeping this gem tucked away for so long. Married! You! And you're the one who keeps telling Lucius that you have no time or inclination to have a wife, and yet here you are. Naughty!" Her laughter came once more, like windchimes tinkling in his ears. Severus hated windchimes.

He gave a tight smile as he nodded to her. "Narcissa. I see you've met Mrs. Snape."

"Indeed I have. A delightful woman, and from such a good family too, Severus. Really, the Creech line is one of the oldest and most respected. They go far back, you know." No, he actually didn't know. His Kelsalis was a pure blood, he'd known that. But her family history… how was it that he knew so little about her?

He drew himself up to his full height, wanting nothing more in that moment than to escape from the blasted shop. He gave a nod toward Madam Malkin. "I'd like to see the rest, quickly, if you please. We have an appointment to keep."

Sara appeared stricken for some reason. He moved past her and toward the back room where the proprietor was directing him toward the rack of clothing. Dimly he heard Narcissa as she exchanged words with Sara, quietly enough that he could not hear. He flipped through the clothing, a surge of anger mounting for a moment as he spoke softly toward Madam Malkin. "If you please, send my wife back here for a moment, I'd like to speak to her privately."

The older woman frowned at him faintly before whatever idea she had dawned on her and she gave a grin, bustling off toward the front of the shop. Sara appeared a moment later, her nervousness palpable. Severus stared at her a moment before jerking his head toward the clothes. "Is that all?"

Her hands were suddenly shifted behind her, fisted tightly, and for a moment Severus was tempted to toss the binding charm he'd used on her once more, if only to see her face flush. He resisted the urge however as she nodded. "That's all."

He glanced back toward the rack once again, speaking matter-of-factly. "Do you plan to go without undergarments, Mrs. Snape?" The formality, as much a part of him as anything else, protected him as a cloak.

Sara reddened visibly as she cleared her throat. "I have my own." It was a weak argument, but an argument still. Severus remained silent, raising one brow. Sure enough, she sighed heavily a moment later. "It's so expensive already. I may not know much about the wizarding money here, but I know that four digits is a lot. I don't need so much, I'll only be here a little while."

Severus bristled instantly, knowing she had gotten straight to the heart of the matter. His lips thinned out as he took a single step toward her. "Madam, you must have misheard me at some point. I did not tell you to look at price tags. I told you to choose things more suitable and flattering. This includes all the things you will need for the summer, and whatever you call those things I found in your wardrobe… they are not in the least bit appealing to me." His voice dropped as he lowered his head to whisper the words in her ear. "Imagine my surprise, when I found on closer inspection of your wardrobe, Madam, that what I found you in last night is not the standard or your wear. Whatever those hideous high-waisted cotton things are called… I do not like them and I do not wish to find you wearing them. Replace them."

Sara stiffened and the embarrassed glow that suffused her lanced through him as acutely as if it had been his own. Her muttered words were barely audible even to him. He tipped his head, one brow lifting as he spoke again. "What was that?"

She cleared her throat, her face burning a bright pink as she averted her gaze. "Granny panties. That's what they're called. They're comfortable." She finished weakly as her ears turned even redder.

It took every ounce of his willpower not to chuckle at her discomfort. He settled for a smirk as he lifted his head. "The name alone would send any red-blooded man in hasty retreat from his own bed. Replace them, Sara, or I will choose the replacements for you. When you've finished, meet me at café across the street."

He took a step back, inclining his head toward her as he slipped past. The soft conversation between Madam Malkin and Narcissa came to a halt as he reappeared, moving toward the counter. "Everything is quite lovely, Madam Malkin, as usual. Mrs. Snape has just a few more items to add to her shopping. I'd appreciate if you could keep it brief though, she has a pressing appointment in an hour and she needs to have a bit of lunch beforehand. You can bill my account at Gringott's as usual."

He gave a glance toward Narcissa before executing a picture perfect bow and striding toward the door, as if he did not feel Sara's tears welling up as if they were his own. No sooner than he stepped out the door however, did the mark begin to burn. He winced in pain as the burning grew stronger. In that moment, he knew the moment he'd been dreading was there. He gritted his teeth, turning back toward the door. He burst back into the building, his eyes settling on Sara. She had moved toward Narcissa, the smile that she'd worn before gone. He had no time to think of it then as he pushed the books he held at her, barely managing to keep his voice level. "I have to go."

Narcissa paled beside her as she spoke. "It's him, isn't it?"

Severus drew himself up to his full height, forcing the emotions from his voice and his mind, willing his heart to stop pounding as if to break free of the cage of his chest. He shifted his eyes to Narcissa, giving he a singular nod. "Watch over her. I'll be back as soon as I can." He hated those words, hated himself. She didn't deserve to be drawn into it, but he knew at that moment, even as the mark burned again, just what he'd be walking into was one very angry Dark Lord.

His gut clenched as he glanced toward Sara, who hugged the books to her chest as if they were a lifeline. He could not afford to look at her for more than a moment, could not afford to have his resolve softened. He'd been a fool, to let himself think for even a moment in time that happiness, however fleeting, might be possible. She was the source of his trouble now. It was her fault for being a disobedient little fool when she'd attacked Pettigrew that made him the target now. He should have been more vigilant, punished her, something to compensate for her actions. Instead he'd been blinded by lust, and by the confusion that had followed on its heels, and even more, he'd almost softened toward her, endangering everything he'd worked for.

Severus closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again, his voice as cold as he could make it "You will accompany Madam Malfoy for the rest of the evening. She will escort you home after you've eaten. Enjoy your shopping trip." With that he sneered, despite the bolt of guilt that struck him as the tears that had threatened her before appeared once more. Yet again, he'd hurt her. A unnecessary evil however, if he was to keep the foolish little chit alive to see another day. Within moments he'd left and disapparated with a loud pop, only to appear a moment later in the drive of Malfoy Manor. Hatred drove him in those moments, propelled him up the steps and toward the library, where he knew the Dark Lord was waiting. Show time, and Dumbledore's lead actor once more took the stage.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note/Warning - **Chapter Eight - In which a secret is uncovered.

Standard update days are Sundays and Wednesdays.

Only Sara is mine, along with the non-canon magical plot point of a Kelsalis and a Kel.

- Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Eight

* * *

Tears stung at Sara's eyes. The accusation in his gaze had been as clear as if he'd spoken the words. _This is your fault._ She held herself together until he'd disappeared out the door. The instant he was gone, she sagged, his disapproval lancing through her like a physical blow. Beside her, the woman who had paled, yet seemed to know what was going on turned a watery smile on her. Sara knew she was trying to reassure her. "I'm sure it's just routine. He likes to check in every now and again, and Severus is really very close to him."

The older woman reappeared from the back room, her arms laden in neatly wrapped parcels which she deposited began to deposit into bags, humming happily, oblivious to Sara and her newly made, though dubious, friend. Sara drew in a breath, forcing a smile, though her words were instinctive, protective. "I'm sure it's nothing. Severus is loyal to a fault." Even as she spoke the words, she suspected there was far more to the entire thing than he'd said.

The look in his eyes, it hadn't been fear. No. It had been resolve. Sara's own strengthened as though in mirror of her Kel's own determination. Damage control was something she'd perfected the second week of her first summer at Spinner's End. She smiled more brightly as she reached for the bags from Madam Malkin. "Severus is a bit stern, but he's been very solicitous of me. He may be quiet, but he's thoughtful and considerate and not one to rush headlong into things, so I'm sure that whatever _he_ wants." She paused, the word stressed lightly. "I'm sure that Severus will be quite able to take care of it."

She summoned another of those brilliant grins that masked what she truly felt. The bond didn't go both ways. She was the Kelsalis. It was not, according to practice, for her to feel what her Kel felt. However, she knew that within a certain limit, of which she was not sure, he could feel what she felt, though not overtly have more than impressions. She followed along behind Narcissa, bags in hand, Severus's books tucked securely into one of the bags that dangled from her fingers.

Three hours later found her delivered safely back to Severus's doorstep. She hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open to make her way inside, her mind still reeling, head pulsing with a headache from the hours spent with the woman who seemed not to have a care in the world beyond some odd mission to coax her into redecorating Severus's sitting room. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, she found herself alone. She seized the quiet to make her way toward the wardrobe, carefully putting away the new clothes, organizing them neatly, though her little side was filled to bursting now. At least that horrid little man wasn't here now.

Sara crept down the stairs, intent on making good use of her time, though two hours later when the laundry was done, the bed neatly made, dinner warming in the oven and her own sandwich eaten, she was no more settled than she'd been at the moment he'd walked out of the shop. In fact, her worry had morphed, in that way that women had, into frustration, and then anger. What was he keeping from her? Who was the Dark Lord? Who was Severus protecting her from?

Sara's head spun. She pinched the bridge of her nose. She wanted out. She wanted to breathe. She wanted independence and most of all…. She wanted air that didn't still have the taint of faint body odor on it from that damn foot fetishist that lived one room over. Last summer, the house had smelled like Severus. This year, it smelled like stale potato chips and the unappealing musk of a man who seemed never to have met a shower in his life.

She rose resolutely from her place at the table, reaching to tuck her wand into her sleeves as she marched toward the wardrobe. The soft black suede pants she donned were really intended for riding a broomstick, but they would serve her purpose just as well. A simple black tunic was pulled on next, the sturdy fabric shimmering with the enchanted silver thread woven into it, reinforcing it to protect the rider from scrapes and bruises. Sara knew from Madam Malkin, that it was the wizarding garb equivalent of Kevlar in terms of the protection it offered in the event of a tumble from a broom. But it was no broom that Sara was aiming for. She stuffed her bank card into her back pocket and slipped on the sturdy black riding boots she'd been using for years now, worn and comfortable. Within minutes she was headed down the street, toward the faded lights of Cokesworth and the small, though equally dismal excuse for a bike shop.

* * *

Severus watched as Draco Malfoy knelt at the feet of Voldemort. Hours he'd been here, and not once, yet, had there been mention of Sara. Instead, the plans and talk were of things that had been settled, planned months ago, that were now to be set into motion. Draco stood before the Dark Lord, pledging that he would do the task assigned to him, and Severus could see it all over again. Himself, not much older, swearing fealty to the lies and principles of a half-man who was hungry for power, hungrier for power than even Severus himself had once been.

It had been him in such a position once, eager and willing to earn the mark that he now hated. Draco was paying the right lip-service, his expression resolved to make up for his father's lack. "I can do it." Severus remained outwardly impassive as the boy pronounced what would amount to his own death warrant when he failed. There was no doubt the lad would fail. Draco was many things, but a murderer was not one of them. Voldemort knew this as well as Severus did. In fact, the only one in the room who seemed to think otherwise was Draco himself.

Voldemort waved his fingers, offering the boy a mild smile. "You will do your utmost, Draco. I have no doubt of this. Now then, off you go. I'm sure you have plans. Go and enjoy your summer, for now. I will call if I have need of you."

Draco shot Severus a dark glare as he turned to make his way from the library, the cocky stride of a boy who'd been born with the silver spoon in his mouth never wavering. Severus released a sigh, unheard by the Dark Lord. Silence reigned for a moment before Voldemort spoke once more, his gaze turning toward the fire pensively. "I'm told something interesting by Wormtail, Severus. A wild tail about a young woman beating him half to death for looking at her feet."

The words were not unexpected, but the humorous tone was. Severus stepped closer, lowering to his knees as Voldemort's finger gestured him downward. He remained silent as Voldemort continued. "Knowing Wormtail, he probably deserved it. The man is faithful, but he's as depraved as they come. He could not tell me much more about the girl, only that she is … apparently your wife. Is this true, Severus?" Those eyes sought him out, the expression eerily calm.

Severus drew in a breath, his hands folded before himself as he phrased the words carefully. "Yes. It's true." He glanced upward. The Dark Lord's eyes betrayed nothing as he merely gestured for Severus to continue. The younger man ducked his head, forging onward, his voice unwavering. "Dumbledore asked me to take her on, four years ago. I agreed to do so, it placed me in a position to further gain his trust at a crucial time. The girl's been in the United States for the past four years, coming to spend summer's at my home." He yielded only the bare bones of information, as ever framing in that way to make it a boon to his supposed Master.

Voldemort processed this information in silence. As ever, Severus held his ground, offering no more and no less. He felt the pushing at his mind that signaled the other wizard employing the power that he wielded so well. Severus summoned up a mental image of the previous night, permitting him to see the harsh treatment he'd subjected her to, her bound body, whimpering cries. At last a chuckle of amusement came from Voldemort. "A toy, Severus? I never figured you for the type." There was a touch of admiration mingled with the amusement. "Not another mudblood?" A note of warning entered the tone.

Severus offered a smirk toward the other man. "Of course not. She's pure-blood, from one of the oldest families in the States. Maiden name was Creech."

There came another long silence as the dark wizard considered the name. "An old family. I know the name Creech. Josiah Creech. A powerful man, in his day. What is her relation to him?"

It was a test. Severus took a gamble, his head lifting, though his voice remained submissive. "I'm not sure. She doesn't talk about them. Our marriage broke her ties to them, or so I was told. She is under my control, completely, and as such, I've forbidden her to speak of them or to them. She has never defied me." There was a note of satisfaction, just the right amount, in his voice, much as any man who prided himself on the grace and line his wife came from.

Voldemort gave a nod. "I should be very upset with you, Severus, that you have kept this from me for so long. But then, I can see you did so because you wished to keep your little puppet to yourself. I can understand this, many men would do the same."

Severus dared not breath, dared not interrupt. His black and white world was no longer so very black and white. He maintained the walls of his mind, never letting his guard down. Voldemort returned his gaze to the fire as he continued. "But then we mustn't keep from the cause what can be useful, should we, Severus?"

There was a note of reproach in his voice then and Severus knew it was far from over. Severus let his head drop forward the bone white wand that appeared from Voldemort's sleeve aimed for him. He didn't attempt to dodge it as the word was hissed in his direction. "Crucio."

The pain ripped through him, bones cracking beneath the pressure. He only barely registered the words that drifted toward him in that cold tone. "You'll bring her to me, Severus, so that I can meet your toy, and judge for myself if she be worthy of joining us in our fight for what is good and right in this world."

He was released from the curse, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud, skull bouncing off the tile of the fireplace. "Go home, Severus, and remember in the future, I am merciful, but only to a degree. I do not like it when my closest and most faithful servant keeps secrets. If you do it again…. I will see to it that your little pureblood wife is the one who pays the price for your indiscretion. Leave." He spoke the last word flatly as Severus staggered to his feet, clutching at the ribs that had broken after the curse lingering a moment too long.

He gave a nod, a weak response before apparating from the spot.

* * *

Sara giggled for the first time in days. A few thousand pounds and a well-placed charm later, Sara was flying. Not in the wizarding sense, heavens forbid, but the Ducati that rumbled beneath her was 850ccs of pure joy. She leaned forward and laid into the throttle, ripping down the road. The wind rumbled through the vents on the helmet as she careened past a large truck, getting a honk and rude gesture for her troubles. Twenty four hours had past since her arrival. Well, twenty five and half, to be precise. For the first time though, the stifling air of Spinner's End had been traded for the fresh air she so craved. Fresh air and diesel fumes and the rumble of the engine between her thighs. It was almost better than sex. And she had discovered… sex was pretty damn hard to beat.

Her mood only climbed as the freedom of riding tapped into that primal part of her, her magic flowing freely, unreservedly. It coursed through her veins, pulsing like a living creature that crawled beneath her skin, joyously. She'd defied him! And it turned out, premeditated defiance was pretty damn good for the soul. Ohhh but Snape was going to be furious when he found out, but for once in her life, obedience took a back seat and her own needs came first. Freedom was flying. No broomsticks to be governed by the ministry, no licensed apparating, no airbags to protect her in the event of a collision. If she crashed, if she miscalculated, she was going to die, no doubt about it. But it was a different kind of flying.

The Ducati had rumbled to be unleashed and she had answered its call, letting the engine rip open and blaze a new trail down the freeway in the, what was to her, the wrong damn direction. Every moment that passed, every vibration of the wind as she leaned into it to keep her balance, each minute correction, it was a power unlike any other. Her dirty little secret. On she rode, taking no notice of the time that passed, and when she finally deigned to return to the little hovel her husband called home, her mood was surprisingly light. It was as if she'd been given an injection of happy.

Carefully, she steered the bike onto the sidewalk, locking the wheel as a precaution. It would be a damn shame to wake up to find her new toy gone. Resolutely, she tucked the helmet beneath her arms and went inside to face the music. Not a single noise broke the silence, the ticking of the clock, the oppressive thickness of the air as it attempted to weigh her down. Past eleven now, and not a soul in sight. Sara stole up the steps and toward the bedroom. She frowned, her hand on the knob. In that instant, she knew something was wrong. Her eyes lit on the form of Severus, sprawled on the floor in an ungainly heap. The indignity of it set her heart into overdrive. She moved to kneel beside him, the helmet tossed on the bed without regard for its expense. And boy had it been an expense.

She knelt beside him, her fingers moving to his neck to check for a pulse. Her fingers gripped at him as she hauled him bodily into a seated position, transferring his head into her lap. His breathing was shallow and her heart damn near stopped as well. Rule one. Rule two. She ticked through them mentally. Rule three. Rule four. They stopped there. Severus had, quite literally never prepared her on what he expected her to do when he found her on death's door. Her mind raced as she groaned. She had no idea what had happened, she wasn't a healer. What the hell was she supposed to do now. Her fingers trembled, a harsh sound emitting from her, a sob, and then in the next moment, she drew in a deep breath. No time. No time.

She drew him safely into the circle of his arms. Rule five. No magic without Severus. She frowned, the part of her that was bound to obey at war with the obvious. He was in danger. Sara wrapped her arms around him tightly, her head lowering to murmur soft words, nonsensical words in his ear as she calmed her mind. She bowed her head, eyes squeezing tightly closed as she focused her energy, wrapping it around him as she let the newly awakened magic flow around her. She was no Legilimens, there was nothing special about her, save for her status as a Kelsalis. Her magic was mediocre at best, save where he was concerned. Her eyes squeezed shut more tightly. She wasn't concentrating hard enough.

She mumbled the words softly. "Severus, I need you to help me." Sara bowed her head lower, her fingers clutching at his wrists as she wrapped them around his own chest in a tight bear hug. Damn, the man was heavy. How had she not noticed that before? She drew in a ragged breath, her brow furrowing tightly as she willed him to hear her. "I'm here, my Kel. You need to focus. I need to know where to take you."

His eyes fluttered open, glassy and uneasy. His lips moved silently. Sara shook her head. "No. No talking. Just focus. Show me where to take you to get help. Please. Help me." The whispered were, she knew, were laden with the pain that lanced through her. She began to rock, the golden strands that wove around them going unseen. In the next split second, the image shown through in her mind, a brick house, the front hall, narrow and oppressive. She nodded. "I understand."

She had no idea where the hell she was going, but with the mental image, she seized it, took control and let her own eyes fall closed as finally, they disapparated with a loud pop.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note/Warning - **Chapter Nine - With the blinding Weasley sweaters.

Standard update days are Sundays and Wednesdays.

Only Sara is mine, along with the non-canon magical plot point of a Kelsalis and a Kel.

- Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Nine

* * *

She clutched him tightly, her arms gripping him still in that tight bear hug. Her legs propped up, hugging him from behind between her knees, holding him as securely as she could. The nausea from the apparition faded after a few moments and she found herself in the same hallway he'd shown her. A long, narrow hallway, so narrow in fact, it felt like the walls were threatening to close in on her. Her fingers clenched his hand in a death grip, and for one terrible moment she feared he was done for. In the next instant though, he breathed, shallowly, his eyes still closed.

Sara lifted her head, the house seemed abandoned. A thick coldness hung in the air, like the fetid pall of death itself. "Hello! Please, someone! Anyone!" She lifted her voice, and to her surprise it was strong. A few tense seconds past before movement down the hall caught her eye, barely more than a stirring of shadow. "You there! I see you. You have to help hi…" She began only to find herself suddenly face to face with a house elf, quite possibly the ugliest creature she'd ever seen, though she'd seen them precious few times in the past.

The house elf stared at her, his large round eyes blinking at her in overt surprise before he spoke in a disturbingly deep voice for such a small thing. "No one should be here."

Sara stiffened, her head lifted as she hissed the words at him. "He told me to bring him here, showed me. You know him, don't you? He's hurt."

The elf shuffled closer before nodding, though he seemed to hesitate, hatred burning in his eyes. "Kreacher knows him." The house elf seemed to relax marginally, his posture shifting as he crept closer. "Kreacher is alone." He appeared to hesitate for a moment, doubt in those large eyes rising as he lowered a hand. "Miss must not tell anyone Kreacher helped. Kreacher is forbidden from leaving the house."

Sara gritted her teeth, her fingers twitching around Severus's wrist before she gave a nod. "No, I won't tell anyone. I promise, but you have to help him. He's hurt." She barely had time to get the words out before the elf had appeared by her side, placing one hand on her shoulder and the other on Severus. She heard the pop before the tearing sensation of disapparating settled over her once more. By the time she breathed again, they were at their apparent destination… a destination which seemed to be… "A pond?" They were indeed in the middle of a shallow pond. She leaned forward, Severus's bulk heavier than his lean frame seemed to lend itself to. Sara glared toward the little elf, hissing the words. "A POND? You apparated us into the middle of a pond?" A bolt of pain lanced down her spine and she winced. The elf appeared unconcerned as he stared at her, pointing toward some unknown place. "Take him there. Kreacher can not go that far." With that he was gone with another soft pop, leaving her there alone, soaking wet and shivering as the wind blew through her. She drew in a breath, her boots digging into the bed of the pond, or at least she hoped it was a pond, and gritting her teeth began to ever so slowly haul Severus's unconscious form through the muddy water.

* * *

Molly Weasley squinted as the wards around the house betrayed the presence of unexpected arrivals. She tensed, wand in hand as she moved toward the front door, stepping out into the night, a chilly wind lancing through her. Her husband moved to stand behind her, speaking quietly. "What is it, Molly?"

She shook her head, peering off into the darkness, the sound of splashing gaining her attention. Arthur sidled around her, making his way toward the source of the sound. "Send Ron, Love. We have company."

His wand appeared in his hand. Molly frowned faintly and turned to retreat fully into the house once more. "Ron!"

Arthur disappeared into the tall grass lighting the tip of his wand with a simply uttered "Lumos." Within a few minutes he could see the shadowed outline of two people, one prone and clutched to the frame of a smaller form. The smaller was a woman, cursing fluidly as she dragged the unconscious body of a man from the water. Arthur stepped closer as Ron appeared at this side, wand at the ready. The woman glanced upward, her grip faltering on the black clad figure she clung to, her wand appearing from beneath her sleeve as she hissed the words. "Who are you?"

Ron cocked his head, far less cautious by nature, than his father. "Bloody hell. It's Snape!"

The woman seemed to relax for a moment. Arthur came to a stop beside his son, wand lowering to study the sodden form of the fallen man. Snape was not well-liked, he was barely tolerated, but at his core, Arthur Weasley wanted to believe a good man lay somewhere beneath the snide remarks and sneer he usually cloaked himself in.

The woman who held onto him was as wet as Snape himself. Arthur took only one glance at her, speaking softly. "We're friends. Let us help him."

The girl seemed not much older than their eldest son, her face lined with fatigue, pretty blue eyes haunted by some trauma, or perhaps that was fear. Either way, it was something to put away and worry over later, once they had answers. Her voice trembled as she pushed her wand back into her sleeve. "I don't know what's happened to him. I just found him in a heap on the floor. He couldn't speak, he couldn't move, he was barely awake. But his ribs, I think there are some broken, and his leg shouldn't stick out that way."

Beside him Ron gaped at the protective tone to the woman's voice. She rushed on, even as Arthur surged forward, casting a simple levitation spell, gingerly guiding the potions master into the air just above the grass, his soaked cloak dragging over it. Ron, good lad that he always was, was already extending his hand toward the woman, his ever-awkward way with the female sex showing through. "Right then. My dad will take good care of Professor Snape. Just come with us. You look like you could do with some help yourself."

The woman fell silent, but Arthur watched her accept Ron's hand from the corner of his eye, drawing back as soon as she was on her feet, falling into step beside the lad. She wasn't even as tall as Ron, yet perhaps she was in her mid-twenties, if even that old. Surely she was an attractive woman beneath the filthy strands of hair that were covered on mud and clinging to her skin. The real question was… just who was she to Snape?

Arthur pushed the less important presence of the woman from his mind as he called out for his wife as he entered the house. "Molly. It's Severus. Something's happened. Go and fetch Poppy quickly, please."

Molly stood just to the side of the door, her mouth opening as she gasped in shock. "What's happened?"

He gave his wife a weak smile as he shook his head. "I don't really know. Now please, love, we need Poppy quickly." With that he finesses Snape's lanky frame onto the sofa. Molly disappeared with a distinct pop, and no doubt would return quickly. The young woman with Ron remained silent, clutching Snape's wand to her chest as if it were a lifeline. Ron glanced toward him, as though to ask forguidance. Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the teenager's lack of thought, instead prompting him gently. "Perhaps you might get our guest a towel and show her to the washroom so she can get dry. And fetch her something from your mother's closet to change into for the moment. While she changes, start some tea."

Ron frowned at him, that clueless look furrowing his brow for a moment before his ears flushed red. "Ah! Right. Tea. Well then, just come with me Miss… uhhh." He paused in the doorway. "Who… are you?"

Arthur began to methodically striped Snape of the soaking clothing, glancing toward the young woman. She drew in a breath, a sob hitching her little frame before she burst into tears without answering the question, her words barely recognizable through the hiccups. "What's wrong with Severus?"

He'd never done well with crying women, and Ron fared no better, reaching to awkwardly pat her hand a single time. "There there. It's not so bad. He's just a bit banged up… and unconscious… and… damp. I'm sure if he was going to die, he'd already have given it up by now, wouldn't he?" He glanced back toward where the good Professor was being stripped with his father's wand, seeing way more than he'd ever wanted of his potions teacher in that moment. Arthur resisted the urge to smack the clueless boy on the back of the head, instead keeping his voice gentle as he addressed the woman. "Just follow Ron, my dear. Severus will be in the best of hands."

* * *

Sara hovered by the stairs, the soft snatches of conversation that drifted toward her making absolutely no sense. She gripped Severus's wand tightly in one hand, the faint trace of his magic that lingered in the wood, emanating from the core did little to comfort her. She'd been steered toward the kitchen, the teenage boy that had seen to settling her in had long been banished to the upper floors of the rather creaky and somewhat unstable looking house. Sara herself had not been questioned further, but rather directed to settle herself at the table with a cup of tea, long since cold, wearing clothing that wasn't her own. She was lost in the bright yellow robe, and a brilliantly colored sweater that was so purple it stung her eyes, though it was surprisingly comfy for what it was. She leaned against the staircase as the strangers bowed their heads over Severus's prone form. Every once in a while incantations or flickers of light as some spell or other was cast caught her eye.

For the moment though, it was simply a waiting game it would see. Sara planted herself on the bottom step of the narrow, steep stairs and peered through the railings once more, hugging her knees to her chest. At last the redheaded woman seemed to notice her, drifting closer and offering her a cautious smile. "Poppy says he will be fine in a few days."

Sara lifted her head, peering past the woman she now knew was called Molly, her gaze seeking out the sturdy older woman garbed in the odd clothing she'd long learned to associate with the British wizarding world. A soft sound escaped her as she buried her face in her knees once more, seeking the words. "I should have been there sooner." Her voice was flat. "It's my fault. I failed him."

Molly frowned at her, and for some reason, there was something about the expression that betrayed to Sara that this was a woman who was not often found with a frown. She radiated a rare kind of warmth. "Why would you say that? You brought him here, though I don't know how, but there are a few questions that need answering, dear, in the morning."

Sara drew in a heavy breath and pushed herself up from the steps. "I'd like to speak to the mediwitch before she goes. Please. He'll want to know, when he wakes up, just what she did."

Molly's frown softened into a smile, as though she'd made some kind of a decision. She rested a warm hand on Sara's shoulder. "You mustn't worry, dear, we will take the best care of him. Poppy's given him something to make him comfortably and keep him asleep overnight. We'll just pop him up to Percy's room and then in a day or two, he'll be right as rain, you'll see."

It was her turn to frown. There seemed a piece of the puzzle that didn't fit. Sara's jaw tightened for a moment before she spun to face the other woman, her voice still soft, though firm. "I want to speak to the mediwitch… please. Severus will expect answers and I intend to be able to give them to him."

The older woman faltered for a moment. "Ah… well, you see, there are questions, and she won't be disposed to give answers to someone who doesn't know much about, well, things."

Sara's cheeks colored as she realized in that moment that these people were perhaps friends of his, they did know him well, well enough to call someone he'd trust apparently. Was it possible that they didn't even know she existed? Sara swallowed, her ears burning a brilliant scarlet beneath her hair as her mind scrambled for something, anything to say. When she spoke at last, her words came out haltingly. "I see." He must not have told anyone save for the kindly old wizard who'd helped her, and perhaps the stern faced older woman who'd given her the world's most boring tour that day four years earlier. Rule number one. Obedience.

She tamped down on the rising wave of nausea that came with the knowledge that he was so shamed by her that he'd not even spoken of her existence to his friends. If he hadn't, that meant she was a secret. She drew in a breath, her beleaguered brain working as quickly as she could. "Well, do you mind then, if I sit with him tonight? I don't want him to wake up alone. He has a tendency to be rather easily annoyed."

The desperation in her voice caught her off guard. It was one thing to have to face the humiliation of being a glorified housekeeper year after year, it was quite another to have the reality of just how little she meant to him revealed to her in such a way. Sara cleared her throat and gripped his wand tighter, resisting the urge to hurl it at his stupid head in a fit of childish rage. Instead, she tried again. "Tomorrow I'll answer any questions that I'm able to. But for tonight, please, just let me stay with him."

Molly glanced toward her husband and in the moment of silence, the soft smile that lit the man's face spoke volume. He gave an almost imperceptible nod as he spoke. "You're welcome to stay with him, Miss… umm… what is your name?"

She glanced past Arthur and toward the couch where Severus lay, unmoving, though his breathing had evened out, and he was wrapped snugly beneath a blanket, though the top of a sweater so hideously blue it rivaled her own in its blinding brightness. "My name is Sara."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note/Warning - **Chapter Ten - In which Severus Snape meets a mutant chickenowl.

Standard update days are Sundays and Wednesdays.

Only Sara is mine, along with the non-canon magical plot point of a Kelsalis and a Kel.

- Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Ten

* * *

A rumbling woke him. Severus's eyes opened to stare at a ceiling that was not his, in a room far too sunny and bright to be his, and in a bed that was about a foot too short for his long frame. The rumbling came again, like a heard of wild buffalo, vibrating the walls and in turn the bed he occupied. He frowned as he stared at the ceiling unmoving as he tried to place the room, but was unable to identify it. He pushed himself upright in the bed, his eyes widening in horror as he looked at the jumper he wore. It was… heinous. A brilliant blue, bearing the image of a knitted beast with feathers and three legs with the letter P decorating his chest. He gaped in horror, rising unsteadily and cursing when his feet came into contact with the bare wooden floor.

The previous night came back to him with startling clarity. The Dark Lord now knew about Sara, had been displeased. His ribs still ached from the curse he'd been held in, suspended in agony. He'd apparated back to his home, made it as far as the bedroom and then it went foggy. Only snippets came back to him now, Sara's voice, her warmth wrapping around him, her will propping him up and forcing him to focus on some task, though he didn't remember exactly what it was.

Severus gazed about himself bewildered. His wand peeked out from beneath the pillow, tucked into the pillowcase by some benevolent soul. The bright green trousers were too tight, the sweater too large and overall, he knew he had to look like an overgrown Technicolor peacock. He moved quietly toward the window, clutching the frame as he stared out over the countryside, knowing instantly it was certainly not anywhere near his home. No terraced housed, vacant and crumbling, no rubbish in the streets. Only clear blue sky and sunshine. The air was fresh as he breathed in, clearing his lungs and his awakening his still sleepy mind. It was a tranquil place, if a bit eclectic if his garb were anything to go by.

Snape glanced toward the window, a snatch of red hair, a young man's voice, all too familiar rising to greet him. Instantly, in one second, that spasm of faint enjoyment of the fresh air and sunshine was replaced with that twitch that he'd developed after one too many close calls with exploding cauldrons. "Bloody hell. Weasleys."

No wonder he looked like a walking gay pride parade. He'd been treated, and sadly, dressed by the Weasleys. No matter how many times he'd seen the family in one place, no one would ever convince him that the entire lot weren't stark raving mad and … or… colorblind. After all, what self-respecting mother would inflict a purple, orange, and green sweater on her child bearing what appeared to be a three-legged chicken and a single letter of the alphabet?

The rumble came again, shaking the still-life on the wall, a still-life which wasn't so still, the apples and oranges on the plate rolling over the painted table linen. The footsteps thundered up the stairs and the knock came on the door. "Ah, Sna… Professor! Are you awake yet?" The door was thrown open to reveal the youngest Weasley boy and Snape could feel his ears redden as he was revealed to the lad in all his multi-colored, he couldn't properly tell but was his chest now … twinkling? Severus lowered his head to study the sweater and sure enough, the mutant chicken's feathers were moving and glowing with a pulsating blue glow. Fuck. The. Weasleys.

Snape gathered the tattered vestiges of his dignity around him as he would his cloak and pasted on his most deadly sneer. Ronald Weasley shrank visibly as he slunk into the room. "Mum wondered if you wanted some.. err.. breakfast, Professor."

Severus was pretty sure the boy was about to piss himself, something that gave him no small amount of sadistic glee, however he was pretty certain the death glare's effectiveness was somehow dampened by the soft tinkling bawking of the mutant chicken on his chest. "Direct me to the loo and tell Molly I will be down shortly. Thank you."

The Weasley lad's hand went out to indicate the sweater, his face as red as his hair. "It's err.. charmed. You can…"

Snape's hand shot out, slapping the boy's away as it came too close to his person. The chicken squawked softly once more. "Yes, Mr. Weasley. I am aware that jumpers do not twinkle of their own accord. Thank you. The loo. Now."

The boy squeaked out directions and disappeared as Severus stalked out of the room, the twitch returning to his eye just from the short few minutes. His entire body ached, muscles stiff from being in one position all night. His leg throbbed and vaguely he had to wonder just how many bones had been broken over the course of those few minutes… or had it been hours? He truly didn't know. Time seemed to stand still when your life felt it was draining from you with each breaking bone and muscle being torn from ligaments.

Severus emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, the chicken.. or was it an owl.. having been quieted with a softly uttered spell. The twinkling hadn't quite subsided, but in the state he was in, Snape would take what he could get. His dignity had taken a blow, but the prospect of a meal drew him from the notion of hiding in that bedroom. He'd have to come out at some point and find out exactly how bad it had been. He made his way on bare feet toward the stairs only to be mowed into by a small, pale blur. A soft cry of surprise greeted him as it registered that whoever had careened into him had lost their balance. His hand shot out, wrapping out the girl's wrist as she teetered for a moment and he took a step back to steady her, hauling her from the stairs. Ginny Weasley gaped at him as she stuttered the words out. "Professor Snape… I'm.. umm.. sorry. I don't see you."

Snape arched a brow, the chickenowl leaping to life once more. He suppressed a sigh. Apparently the charm was triggered by the presence of a Weasley. Bloodyfanfuckingtastic. The twinkle revved up a notch as the chickenowl began a joyful leaping dance across his chest. He tried to ignore the pulsating pink twinkle as he regarded the youngest Weasley, releasing his grip on her wrist. How the hell had she missed him? He was, in essence, a radioactively glowing peacock. How could anyone miss that?

She stared at the sweater for long seconds, her lips twitching as she lowered her eyes. "Thought we'd managed to get rid of that thing years ago. Mum made it for Percy for his birthday. It's… unnerving."

Severus, were he one to make conversation, would have agreed heartily. Instead he merely fixed the girl with his most scathing glare and prayed it work. There wasn't much left in his arsenal that didn't involve hexes and curse words unsuitable for young ears. She thrust the neatly folded stack of clothing she carried toward him. "Mum thought you might prefer your own things. They've just finished drying, though she didn't have time to press them."

Now, he was grateful he hadn't opened his mouth and said something to the girl to make himself even more of an asshole than he now felt. He accepted the clothing, giving he a stiff nod. "Give my thanks to your mother."

Ginny relaxed, flashing him a smile as she turned to go. Snape regarded her for a moment, sighing a bit as he spoke again. "And Miss Weasley…" She turned on the top step, giving him a questioning glance. He softened a bit. She so reminded him of another red-head in that moment, the innocent wide-eyed luster of youth that was unyet tainted by the nastiness that lay ahead in a world far too cruel for sweetly natured women to rightly have thrust upon them. He wondered, in that moment, if perhaps that innocence that needed to be so viciously protected, was the exact reason that Dumbledore had placed him in the position he had all those years ago. Severus pushed the sentimental drivel aside and kept his voice neutral as he gave her a nod. "Watch your step on those stairs, lass, they're steep." With that he turned and retreated into the room he'd slept in once more.

When he finally descended the stairs, a quarter of an hour later, once more clad in his customarily severe and most importantly nonglowing clothing, he emerged into a light-filled room. Severus folded his hands behind his back as he ducked beneath one of the low beams and cleared his throat. The Weasley clan was gathered around the room in various states of Weasliness. Ronald was shoveling eggs into his mouth, Ginny was staring at her brother in mild disgust. Arthur held the morning issue of the Prophet as he sipped at his tea and Molly hovered near the stove, poking with a spatula at bacon. The scent of the food brought an almost smile to his face and he was ravenous almost instantly.

Sara appeared in the doorway, several eggs clutched in her hand. "Molly, I found the…" Her gaze lit on him, widening as she realized his was up. A strange softness flickered through his chest at the sight of her, and oddly, he recognized it as his own and not hers. His gaze raked over the lines of her body, as though he were seeing her for the first time. A pair of suede trousers encased her slender frame. A simple black tunic, fitted just beneath the bust emphasized her small breasts, the perfect handful as he remembered. He was grateful in that moment for the loose fit of his robes as she broke into his reverie. "You're awake."

The relief in her voice was evident. He did not smile, though his felt his eyes warming for just a moment, a flicker that he knew she saw when the tips of her ears turned red. She placed the eggs in the bowl on the counter beside Molly and moved toward him. The room erupted in the next instant, Molly chirping at him to seat himself at the table, Arthur folding the paper and laying it aside. "Severus! Good to see you moving around. How's the leg?"

"Sore, but bearable." Severus lowered himself into a chair at the end of the table furthest from the Weasley he hated most, leaving Ronald with his face all but planted into the bowl of porridge he was devouring. The boy gave him a goopy smile before lowering his eyes and tucking back into his food. Sara moved silently, somehow managing to slip her arm around him to place a cup of coffee before him. How many times in the past had she done that, without him so much as noticing? He noticed now, his entire body thrumming from the tantalizing warmth of her nearness. He carefully schooled his expression into one of careful neutrality as he gave her a nod of thanks and turned his eyes toward Arthur. The older man was a kind soul, a good soul, and despite the lack of resources that might beleaguer others, Arthur carried himself with pride and the shameless joy of a man who loved his family. He was precisely the kind of man that Severus thought perhaps he could have been, in another life. "What exactly happened?"

Arthur's smile faded as he glanced toward Sara. "Your friend, she brought you here. Apparated into the pond, it would seem, at least that's where we found the two of you. Soaking wet and shivering, you both were. She was somehow hanging on to you. We didn't precisely know what happened, but Poppy came and treated your injuries, which thankfully, were fewer than at first glance." He paused a moment watching with a curious arch to his brow as Sara placed a plate before Severus.

Severus for his part merely gave Sara another of those nods, tapping the table beside him. "Eat, Sara." The gnawing in his own stomach had betrayed her. Her cheeks reddened as she moved back toward the counter to prepare a second plate and slipped into the chair beside him.

Fortunately Arthur continued, barely missing a beat. "Poppy said you had four broken ribs, a sprained wrist and a broken femur. She repaired the damage and gave you a sleeping draught. Said to tell you that if you need her, you only have to send for her."

Severus reached for is fork and took a bite of the eggs, his gaze flicking toward the woman beside him, who was uncharacteristically quiet. She usually at least gave him more of a greeting. He frowned faintly, studying her in silence. Sara was paler than usual, a tremble to her hands that he'd never noticed before. The dark circles beneath her eyes betrayed that she'd had a restless night. It dawned on him a moment later, and despite the presence of others in the room, the words escaped him without notice to them, his focus on her in that moment. "Did you stay awake all night, Woman?"

Sara stilled, her fork freezing in the air as she drew in a breath. She lowered it for a moment, those pale blue eyes flicking to meet his, a strength he'd never seen before lining the stern set to her full lips. "Yes. I did. I thought it best you not wake up alone in the dead of night if the sleeping potion proved to be ineffective."

A bolt of awareness filtered through him. He spoke gruffly, still taking no notice of the openly curious stares he was now receiving from the four Weasleys. "You should have rested, Sara. You're no good to me if you are exhausted." His voice had softened despite himself and she lowered her head, lifting her bite once more wordlessly.

Arthur, nosy soul he was, spoke up. "Sara was a great help to Molly this morning. She insisted on helping with the wash. Lucky she didn't catch cold though, given how chilly it was last night, and how wet she got. Sweet girl."

Severus redirected his gaze toward Arthur, giving a sardonic smirk. "I'm aware. She's quiet most of the time, I find her quite bearable." It was high praise indeed from him, however the rage that ripped through his belly, an echo of Sara's instant reaction, was not what he'd expected. She should be pleased, why wasn't she pleased with the compliment.

His eyes flicked to her hands, which were now shaking. She said nothing, but merely mechanically pushed a bite of food into her mouth. What would she be angry? He would never understand women. Never.

Arthur chuckled a bit, as if sensing the tension in the air. "A sweet girl indeed, your friend."

Severus realized in that moment, the Weasleys seemed to have no clue. He blinked slowly, realization dawning on him by degrees. Sara had told them nothing more than they needed to know. He frowned once more, his gaze locking to her face as she sipped her own coffee. When he spoke slowly, he measured his words carefully. "Sara is very sweet. However, I think there's been some mistake, Arthur. Sara is not my friend." She froze beside him, her head lifting as she looked him dead in the eye, something incredibly rare and bold for her. It was as though she were daring him to lie. Severus responded, as he ever did to any challenge, on a purely innate level as he continued. "I apologize for the misunderstanding, I suppose it's to be expected when so much was apparently going on while I was sleeping. Allow me to explain."

He shifted his gaze once more toward Arthur, Molly having now abandoned her skillet to come and stand behind her husband, one hand on his shoulder. Curiosity was evident in their gaze. "Molly, Arthur, I'd like to formally introduce you to Sara Snape." He stressed the last name, the meaning readily apparent to those who knew him.

He didn't count though, on the blundering fool of a teenage boy at the other end of the table as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "You have a sister? I never knew you had a family, Professor."

Severus fixed the boy with a hard stare. "I was not hatched from an egg, Mr. Weasley. Yes, I did once have a family, but no, Sara is not my sister."

The only sound in the usually overly loud Weasley kitchen was the ticking of the clock. Ronald, to his credit, only appeared confused for a moment longer before he broke the silence, saying aloud the very words that Severus had never considered hearing tossed back at him. "Bloody hell. She's your wife."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note/Warning - **Chapter Eleven - Sometimes punishment is the sweetest kind of torture.

Standard update days are Sundays and Wednesdays.

Only Sara is mine, along with the non-canon magical plot point of a Kelsalis and a Kel.

- Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Eleven

* * *

They appeared in the sitting room with a near silent pop. Sara closed her eyes to fight off the waves of nausea that she'd never fully become accustomed to. She apparated so rarely that it had never been a tolerance she'd acquired. She tore away from Severus's grasp and headed for the stairs without a word. He stared after her, open bewilderment written on his handsome features. Something inside her had torn, broken apart at the words he'd spoken to the Weasley's. She had been introduced as his wife, following a conversation that spoke of her as if she were not there.

In that instant she realized with startling clarity that she truly wasn't real. The bond was real enough. Her physical form. Her powers. Her life, her home, those things were real. Severus Snape though, her husband, her Kel, her mate… to him she was nothing but a shadow. Rule one… absolute obedience. She cursed as she barreled past the demonic little man in the hallway and threw open the bedroom door. Her helmet still lay on the bed. She pushed the door closed behind her and engaged the lock. The wardrobe was ransacked next, none of her usual neatness, the care she generally gave to all things in his home, yes, it was his home, not hers, none was shown as she dragged out a pair of faded jeans and a warm sweater. Her backpack appeared next and she hastily shoved her laptop and work materials inside. Fuck if she had a plan, but she'd be damned if she stayed in this house a moment longer.

Power surged through her, the cold of anger settling over her as Severus appeared in the doorway. "Sara?" His voice was oddly quiet, bearing a foreign note of confusion.

She did not look at him, simply ignored his presence as best she could as she pushed her cell phone into the front pocket of the backpack and slung it over her shoulder. He stepped forward, pushing the door closed once more, his hand settling over her wrist to still her movements, that same soft tone she couldn't identify in his voice. "Sara, what's going on?"

"It's Sara, now, is it?" Her voice was as brittle as his usually was, the rules that she'd clung to, that bound her to him now the only thing that stopped her from simply tearing from his gentle grasp.

Severus frowned at her openly, his eyes as shuttered as usual. She gritted her teeth. "I almost didn't recognize my own name. I'd forgotten you even knew it." It was a low blow and she knew it, and instantly regretted it.

His confusion was now even more apparent as he tightened his grip on her wrist, his eyes glittering in a predatory way she recognized, flaring heat to life in her belly despite her resolve. She drew in a breath to steady herself. "I'm going out."

"What?" Severus stared at her. "Out? Where?"

Sara lifted her helmet with one hand. "Rule two." She murmured the words as she tucked her helmet beneath her arms. "Don't ask stupid questions."

He released her instantly as though burned. His face shifted, the moment of vulnerability eradicated as she moved past him. He spoke in that imperious tone that she knew so well. "Do not dare to set foot outside this house, Kelsalis."

She glanced back to him as she fished the keys to the bike from her pocket. "There it is. That's the Kel I know. The one who hides behind his formality and his pomp so no one gets close. Welcome back, Master. I missed you." The mocking words escaped her before she could stop herself and she had to physically steady herself with her grip on the door knob. "Go back to your books, Severus, and your paper dreams of how things should be between us. I liked it better when I didn't exist."

With that she slipped out the door and once more barreled past the startled man who reminded her, for some reason, of a rat and thundered down the stairs. Severus, it seemed was only a few seconds behind her. Briefly she wondered if the door might clip him in the face when she slammed it so hard that it had rattled in its frame.

By the time he tore it open behind her, she was already on the Ducati and spinning her way into the street. He said something, words she saw his mouth make, but didn't make out, mostly because she laid into the throttle to rev the cold engine. Passive aggressive bitch for the win. With one last scathing glare she slammed the visor of the helmet down into place and shot off, leaving a very confused and very angry Severus Snape staring after her on his doorstep.

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Severus glared at the street as the motorcycle disappeared around the corner, moving out of sight. Her words caused a strange tightness in his chest. He'd never seen so much fury in one little body before and frankly, he wondered how long it had taken for it to bubble over. The admiration faded as he was left there on his doorstep, torn between the fury of her defiance and the undeniable arousal her sudden burst of spirit had sparked.

He reached back to pull the door closed behind him as he stepped into the street without regard for the curious stares his robed garnered him. He only had to make it to the end of the street to find the privacy he needed to take flight. He murmured the incantation beneath his breath and rose into the air, knowing full well that he resembled the bat his students had snidely dubbed him after. He caste a disillusionment spell on himself as he landed on the roof of a building nearby, crouching as he scanned the street below. The telltale sound of the engine in the distance was all he needed to take off after her once more. He followed Sara for hours, his anger mounting with each stop along the way, pacing her. His body ached and he longed for his bed, and curiously, the comforting warmth of her beside him. Only three days and he was already losing his touch.

When he came to stop the last time, Sara was off the bike and standing beside it in front of a mostly empty pub. He gazed down at her as she tucked her helmet beneath her arm. He glanced toward the street below, ensuring there was no one to see before he apparated down with a soft pop.

Severus struck before she could scream, one arm slipping around her waist, his free hand clamping over her mouth as he apparated without another word. They were back in his bedroom in the span of a heartbeat. He released her instantly and moved toward the door, drawing his wand to cast a silencing spell over the door, pacing to the window as she stared at him in mute surprise.

Her anger reared up inside him again, his own settling into the pit of his stomach. For just a moment, he let his eyes fall closed, relishing the energy that crackled in the air. For the first time in decades, he _felt_ something.

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Sara recoiled from him as he turned slowly to face her. She fully expected blows to fall on her. His voice was deceptively gentle as he gestured toward her with the wand. "Remove the bag and put the helmet away, Sara. You won't be needing it again today." She moved sluggishly, that silken tone weaving a strange kind of magic, entirely foreign to her, through the air around her. She gritted her teeth, her head bowing as she rose from the bed and moved to place the helmet on the little desk, shrugging out of the backpack and placing it on the floor by the chair.

He spoke once more, his voice never rising. "I did tell you, Kelsalis, not to take so much as a foot outside this house and you deliberately defied me." There was no venom in his voice, only that serpentine hiss of displeasure she'd not heard since her first night as his when he'd directed her to the spare room and promptly left her there for the night. She shivered as he drew closer. "Let's play a game, Sara. It's called 'count the fuckups'." His lips quirked upward in a sneer and a cold dread settled over her. "Tell me what you've done, since your arrival, that is out of character for you."

Sara summoned the righteous indignation that he'd inspired earlier, the spark of defiance that had fanned into a full blown flame returning in an instant. "I bought a motorcycle and I rode it on the freeway busting past the speed limit and the other drivers without a single thought to their safety or mine, all without a driver's license to even a drive a motorcycle in this country." She lifted her eyes to his, finding his gaze hard, obsidian eyes glittering with some unknown reaction. She held up one finger, then two. "I suppose that's two."

He remained silent, drawing to a stop before her, his expression still unreadable as she forged onward, drawing her strength from the slow burn of frustration that had mounted over the years. "I attacked your creepy houseguest on my first night here when I saw him staring at my feet and getting a stiffie like a pervert. That's three."

Severus's head bowed, his wand coming to rest at her cheek, tracing a line to the underside of her jaw as he murmured the words silkily. "Go on."

Sara didn't even try to temper her words as she flipped a fourth finger up. "I yelled at the words most sullen house elf and threatened to kill it if he didn't do what I wanted him to do." A fifth finger followed. "I left the room before you woke up yesterday because I didn't want you to see me crying." Her voice hardened, mirroring his usual cold tone as she lifted her other hand, a sixth finger coming into view. "I gave you an order that, frankly, you more than deserved and in fact, I should have told you to go fuck yourself because you're a callous bastard who treats the one person in this world who feels something genuine for you as if she were just a little plaything and frankly, four or five orgasms, or however many that was, in four years is a pretty shitty record."

He arched one brow, his tone chiding as his wand slipped over her collarbone, raising goosebumps in its wake. "Language… do go on." He was inviting her to dig her own grave and she seized the chance to speak her mind for the first time in ages, not caring that she might end up at the end of some nasty hex or other.

In fact, she fully expected it, ticking up a seventh finger. "I washed the whites with the darks yesterday, Severus Snape, and turned your black boxers gray." The growled the words at him, snapping her hands shut into fists once more. "Did I leave anything out, you mean son of a bitch?"

That did it. Something in his eyes snapped. His onyx orbs flared to life, pupils dilated, his face alight with color, fury causing his wand to tremble against her skin as he uttered the words, but not the words she was expecting. "Kelsalis Fortuna." The hissed spell blindsided her as her body responded of its own accord, the bond that held her so tightly under his control ripping through her as pleasure unfurled expectantly from the pit of her belly. She would have crumpled to the ground had his arm not slipped around her waist and caught her weight neatly. She was only dimly away of the heaviness of his arousal pressed to her belly through the thick layers of clothes that separated them. Her core clenched as the sweet release of bliss rolled through her and a whimper was torn from her throat. Her clenched fists rose, beating on his chest. His head bowed, his voice a growled whisper beside her ear, warm breath caressing the shell of her ear. "You've been quite rebellious the past few days, Sara. There is some discipline in order, don't you agree?"

She gasped as she struggled to focus her gaze on him even as his lips formed the words, her body spasming once more, the spell taking effect as the force of her second release in as many minutes overwhelmed her, sending coherent thought scattered to the wind.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N – So this update came a bit late in the day. I had to install a new OS on my PC and luckily it's all cleared up now! Enjoy! This chapter contains no shameless smut. Be aware! My original estimate of the final word count was a bit off. This story warrants two parts, and the outline has expanded. So be patient, my pretties, and you'll get a treat in the end. I swear… it'll be worth the wait.

Just a side note, Sara's rules have generated some curiosity, so here's the official breakdown, consider it your handy reference guide.

Rule one – unquestioning obedience

Rule two - don't ask questions, especially stupid ones.

Rule three – when addressed directly, always answer

Rule four – no arguing

Rule five – no magic away from Severus

As usual, I do not own anything/anyone besides Sara, a Kel and a Kelsalis!

3 Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Twelve

* * *

Sara found herself waking alone. Her entire body ached, though the memories of his eyes searing into her as he'd all but cursed her into oblivion with pleasure. Hours later, when he had finally allowed her to sleep, he'd stalked away, leaving her bereft and exhausted. He had not been joking when he'd said he would punish her, and punish her he had. He'd never touched her, never unclothed her, merely watched her as passively as he might a bubbling brew, dumping her unceremoniously into bed when he felt he had made his point sufficiently. His side of the bed was untouched, and for a moment Sara wondered if he'd slept at all. She gritted her teeth all through her shower, grateful that there was some hot water, and set to righting the mess she'd made the night before.

Her addled brain sifted through the puzzle that was Severus Snape. What kind of man blew a woman's mind with multiple orgasms as a form of discipline? Not that she was complaining really, but sparks without the firecracker was a bit disappointing. She'd had a taste of what sex was like and damn if her mind didn't go straight to the gutter. She found herself entering the sitting room not half an hour later, hair neatly braided down her back, backpack dangling from one hand. The devil she knew, in this case, was even worse than the devil she didn't. He sat in his armchair, the paper held in his hand, squinting at it. When she cleared her throat, he barely glanced up. "Yes?"

Sara drew in a breath, her gaze narrowing on him as she spoke softly, her tone cautious. "I thought I might go to the library. I have some work to finish on my dissertation."

Only then did he fold the paper to peer at her. Curiosity flared in his eyes and for a moment she wondered what he seemed to find so interesting as his gaze raked over the line of her body. He folded the paper neatly and lowered it to his lap. "You have some work on your what?" The curiosity was academic… of course it would be.

"My dissertation, Severus." She addressed him fearlessly, more casually than she ever had.

He lifted a brow at the lack of formality before he rose from the chair and paced toward her. "Yes, I heard what you said, but what I don't understand is why you would bring work with you for the summer, Sara. Isn't your school year over?"

Sara frowned faintly, her brow drawing into a tight furrow a moment later. "Yes, it is. But I have a deadline in a few weeks. My final draft needs to be turned in for my license to practice, otherwise…"

He came to a stop directly before her. It was the first flicker of interest in her on a personal level she'd seen from him. Severus continued in that pensive way of his, staring at her as though she were a puzzle to be figured out. "You have been in University for a very long time now."

Immediately, her guards rose. She drew herself up to her full height as she answered him, doing her best to keep her tone level. "It takes quite a long time to get my…" Sara trailed off into silence as she became acutely aware of the fact that he'd drawn closer, and tried again. "If my dissertation is late, it could delay my credentials and that would set me back another year. And it's my last year, and after this, I have a position waiting for me if I want, but it hinges on finishing the paper."

Severus frowned a bit then, just the slightest furrow, mirroring her own confused expression. "Job?"

Sara smiled brightly, spurred onward. "Yes. You see my internship is ended in the spring and my boss took a shine to me and so the position is mine if I want it, pending the acceptance of my dissertation by the board."

He shook his head once more. "Let's pretend for a moment that I have the faintest idea what you're talking about."

Amusement filtered into Sara's eyes, amusement she could not hide. Severus's ears reddened slightly though he showed no other sign of embarrassment. "This is not a muggle job?"

Her smile disappeared instantly. "Of course it is. Rule five. No magic when I'm in the United States, just as you stated on the first day."

His confusion seemed to mount and for once there was no derision in his expression and in that moment Sara realized he had absolutely no recollection of the rule. She rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "If I'd known you'd forget, I'd not have made it a point to surround myself with flammable electrical equipment just to make myself breakfast every morning."

He exhaled lightly before shrugging, still making no move to back out of her personal space. Sara seized the rare moment of nearness, relishing the oddly comforting familiarity of his presence. A moment later though he lifted a hand, waving her off as he stepped away and back toward his chair. "Be careful. And do not let me catch you on that blasted machine again, Sara. Those things are dangerous." She knew instantly he referred to the Ducati that had been abandoned at the pub she'd parked it in front of.

It was Sara's turn to frown, her lips parting before she sighed out the words. "Fine. Rule four wins again." She barely registered one last frown as she turned to go. It was not until her hand was on the door that she found herself captured in the circle of his arms once more. Her backpack slipped to the floor with a soft thud. Her brow furrowed as she found herself pinned against the wall by the front door. Severus's eyes burned with that same light, and in that moment she read how very frustrated he'd become. His voice betrayed him, for the first time displaying something besides the infuriating neutrality she knew so well.

His voice was as silk as he shook his head. "Ah, my little Kelsalis, when will you learn. That giving me lip is just as bad as arguing."

Sara shuddered when she heard the creaking of the door to the stairs, her brow drawing into a tight frown, eyes darting toward it. In the next second, it slammed closed with barely a wave of Severus's wand, the lock engaging. The kitchen door slammed closed next and Sara found herself well and truly alone with him, though heaven only knew how closely the odd little house guest was listening to the door.

"You're playing with fire." Severus's voice was tinged with an emotion she could not readily identify as his nose caressed her cheek and for one sweet moment she thought he would kiss her. However, it was not to be. She found herself trapped bodily against the wall as he murmured the words gently, words that sent a bolt of awareness straight down her spine and to her core. "Strip, Sara."

He released her and took a step back. Her brow furrowed, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she opened her mouth to speak. Severus shook his head slowly. "I didn't tell you to talk. I told you to strip."

Her desire pooled low in her belly as she stared at him, her gaze directly captured in his own. She moved as though unaware of what she was doing, her fingers rising to unbutton the pea coat she'd slipped on before making her way downstairs. His eyes lingered on her form, his expression that of a man who was indulging in some unknown delicacy. Sara shivered under his gaze as she tugged her sweater over her head, and let it fall to the ground. Severus's voice deepened as a feral smile tugged up the corners of his lips. "The rest. All of it."

She drew in a steadying breath as she pushed her jeans over her hips, revealing the scandalous red lace confection she'd chosen at his bidding. His voice was laden with an intensely male smirk of satisfaction. "A vast improvement."

Her heart kicked up a notch, the vulnerability of her exposure to him in this manner, in the middle of his sitting room, even with a locked door, brought home a new sense of insecurity. Sara focused her eyes on his face once more and pushed the panties over her hips, her bra following a moment later to land on top of the pile of discarded clothing. "Please, I don't understand…"

Severus's gaze flicked to her face once more. "What is there to understand? I desire the use of your body for my pleasure. It's a very simple matter." He took a single step forward, closing the distance between them as she found herself lifted bodily and pressed to the wall, the movement harsh and telling, the rough fabric of his robes as they brushed over bare skin dragging a whimper from her. Anxiety gave way to anticipation as his fingers dug into her hips, balancing her as if she weighed nothing, hissing the words into her ear. "Those silly rules, Sara… I remember them better than you think."

She gasped as his head lowered, his lips capturing one rosy nipple, his teeth gripping gently as he suckled lightly. His fingers moved, grazing her folds as she squirmed in his grasp, the sudden intensity of his touch at direct odds with her natural response to his demands, however callous they might be. Her spine arched, hips jerking toward his hand in overt need as he pressed two fingers deep within her, giving no warning. Sara's eyes dropped to half-lidded slits as his tongue laved over her breast, the newness of the experience barely registering in her arousal fogged mind. When he lifted his head, his fingers moving inside her, mimicking the age-old movements of man and woman, she inhaled sharply. His voice was a heated whisper in her ear as his fingers left her. "Already hot and wet for me, Sara? Hm? Do not speak, but you may cry out."

She let her head fall back against the wall as he moved away from her, the rustling of fabric the only indication of his movements, and a soft whimper was ripped from the back of her throat at the loss of his body heat. A moment later though, she felt it, the head of his cock guided through the slicked folds of her core, moving to rest against her entrance. Her thighs parted more widely on instinct, hips moving minutely within his grasp, silently pleading where words were not granted to her. "Open your eyes, Sara. I want you to look at me when I take you this time."

Her lips parted, the sweet cruelty of his words driving home the vulnerable position she was in, and still more astonishingly, she loved it. He had been worth waiting so long for. Her train of thought was abruptly ended as his fingers dug into her hips with bruising force, holding her still as he snapped his own upward, his full length driven into her willing body. She did indeed cry out, with no regard to who might hear. He gave a ragged groan in her ear as he murmured the words, arousal tinging his own voice for the first time. "That's it, offer yourself to me. Give me what's mine."

Sara bit her lower lip in an effort to keep from whimpering too loudly, the invasion into her body sending her senses into overdrive. Her eyes clammed closed as he withdrew from her with agonizing slowness, the movement sending shock waves of new found pleasure down her spine. Severus's voice hardened as he hissed the words at her. "I said … open your eyes. Look at me, watch me while I'm fucking you, see who you belong to, Sara."

Her eyes cracked open as he slammed into her once more, his patience seemingly at an end as he began to do exactly what he had promised her, taking her hard and fast and seemingly without regard to her comfort. Her walls clutched at him, her need rising with each passing moment as his cock battered into her helpless frame. Her cries intensified, falling from her lips in wordless begging. She had no idea how long passed, Severus's obsidian gaze boring into hers, holding her as captive as he had with the binding spell only a scant few days ago.

Each moment, each heartbeat that passed only sent her further into a place where only those black eyes existed, and the delicious sensation of him filling her over, harder and harder with each stroke. She trembled, his movements growing jerky as her body twisted in his grasp. Still his eyes never left hers as he drove into her, a guttural snarl filling her ears as he hissed the words in her ear. "Now, Sara."

The permission granted, her body responded instantly, walls clamping down on his length as he slammed into her one final time, the bruising press of his fingers tightening to pinpoints of pain as she came, the pleasure washing over her in waves. She bit her lower lip as she tried to contain her cries, to stifle them, to regain some of what dignity he'd torn from her in the base, primal act. It was for nothing though as she felt him sheath himself inside her one final time, his length pulsing within her as he found his own release, the hot jet of his seed washing into her triggering a new round of whimpers. His breath was hot against her ear as his hips jerked once more, as though caught in the moment though in this, she was denied the sight of his face, of his pleasure.

Ever so slowly, her world collided back into itself once more and she was aware of the heavy, oddly reassuring press of his body against her, his length still buried inside her. She whimpered once more as he spoke softly, breathlessly, into her ear. "Get dressed, Sara, go to the library… be home by dark."

With that he withdrew from her and stepped away, straightening his clothes as she slid to the ground, staring up at him in a daze. Her eyes locked to his face, the aftereffects of his release tinging his skin a healthy pink for once. His breathing was still heavy and he seemed oddly satisfied. Sara released a groan as she reached for her clothing shakily. He stared at her, simply watching her as she rose, wincing as she still struggled to calm her racing heart. Sara's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment as she dressed clumsily and braced herself against the wall. What the hell had just happened?


	13. Chapter 13

A/N- The update came a bit late last night, so here's an extra chapter to tide you guys over til next time! As some of you have noticed, I tend to update faster than my Sunday/Wednesday schedule. We're getting ready to wrap up part one of this beast, so look for hints of foreshadowing! And thank you so much for all the lovely reviews!

Alas, I use language in this chapter that can be HIGHLY offensive. But I won't apologize, as it seems rather in character for Severus to do so, especially where Bellatrix is concerned. An introspective chapter, but one that is needed to bridge our little gap from part to part.

As usual, I don't own anything besides Sara, a Kel, and a Kelsalis.

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

Severus stared at the paper in his hands, not really seeing the words. Sara's cries echoed in his ears, a balm to his wearied soul. How very strange that he'd never noticed it before, that curious ability of hers to arouse and soothe at the same time. It was addictive. He had no real reason to push her against the wall and take her as he had, it was truly nothing more than a lapse in resolve, giving in to what she so readily offered with each tantalizing swing of her hips. Unbidden, his eyes came to rest on the wall by the front door, the events of the morning replaying in his mind. His body reacted to the memory as a visceral thing and an unexpected jolt of longing shot through him.

The knock at the door drew his attention, jerking him from the delicious reverie and a moment later, Wormtail appeared, nosy as ever. The familiar voices ripped him firmly from the pleasant morning he'd had and back to business, life as it must be. Narcissa Malfoy and her cunt of a sister were ushered in. Severus slowly lowered the paper, folding it and setting it aside, the last of the pleasure that still coursed through his veins fading away as he rose from his seat. He'd known this was coming, knew it the instant Draco had been given the impossible task of killing Albus Dumbledore. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, the dregs of his conscience made their last stand. He hated himself more than ever, in that moment.

As was always the case, startling clarity came. It did not come with the roaring of a lion. Instead, it came with the tiptoeing lightness of a lamb, but the clarity was real all the same. Narcissa Malfoy was everything a well-bred and well-married pure blood which should be. Wealthy, powerful in her own right, and devoted to her family. Try as he might, she was one of the few people Severus was unable to find fault with. And in that moment, he saw her there, glass of wine in hand as she perched in his chair, in an entirely new light. She was haggard and pale. It hadn't shown the other day in the shop, she'd been all smiles. And yet whatever glamour she'd used, whatever spells, they were forgotten today, revealing the beginnings of lines on her face, dark circles beneath her eyes, and hollow places in her cheeks where she'd begun to lose weight. She wore her grief like a shroud. In that moment, he could see Sara in her place.

It was why he'd kept her at arm's length, protected her. Severus's jaw tightened as a flash of movement drew his attention. "We mustn't touch what isn't ours, Bella. Put it down." The little figurine she held was placed back onto the mantle with a thunk and Severus reverted his attention to the conversation at hand. Sara must go home. He realized this with a sinking heart and a curious sense of impending loss.

Impossible. It couldn't be. He could not have developed feelings for his wife in a few short days. He had a lifetime of grief, two lifetimes of penance and an eternity of regret already. The last thing he needed was an attachment to the one person given to him to be protected, solely his and his alone. Severus barely heard the conversation, participating by rote as he joined his hand with Narcissa's. A vow on top of the half dozen he'd already made that put his life in jeopardy. It was a life of little value, and though useful, it was virtually worthless. When the war ended, if he survived, Lily would be avenged, the wizarding world would be free and once more, he would be alone.

He took the vow, his voice uncharacteristically soft, unable to keep the emotion from it. The grief struck him anew, a thousand bolts of lightning straight to his heart. The quickening of his pulse was the only betrayal of his state though, as the women took their leave. As soon as they were gone, Severus dropped bonelessly into his chair, his head bowing as he stared at his hands. Sara had to go home. All at once, the sense of relief that filtered through him that she would be safe was instantly tamped down. She was nothing but a burden. He repeated it to himself. A burden. A silly girl with no concept of danger, a woman bred for fantasy and untainted by the smallest understanding of death or darkness. The purity was her downfall. A burden, he told himself once more as he rose to his feet, making his way toward the stairs.

He pushed past Wormtail on the staircase, giving a solid kick to the man's back, simply because his mood had turned foul. He repeated the words beneath his breath, seeking to solidify the lie he told himself. "A burden. A silly girl with no idea what she's toying with and a distraction I do not need." Yes. Yes, that's what he would tell her. Strengthen her hatred of him. He knew she hovered on that razor's edge between love and hate. He was not loveable, and so it stood to reason that it was hatred that fueled her desire. The two were so closely intertwined.

Severus's jaw tightened as he pushed the bedroom door closed behind himself and staring around the little room that had become a haven against the forces of the outside world. He knew in that moment, his stomach turning, the knowledge of his own weakness sickening him. Severus Snape loved his wife.

He perched himself on the chair by the small desk he'd moved into his room for her to use, staring around himself. The bed was impeccably made, though the scent that was uniquely Sara lingered. The door to the wardrobe was cracked open, though he couldn't see inside, but he knew if he could, that it would be as painfully neat as it ever was. Severus turned in the chair to face the desk, drawing out a piece of parchment from a drawer and rummaging for a moment before coming up with one of the cheap plastic pens he knew she favored. It was difficult to hold, and his handwriting suffered for it, but he seemed not to notice as he began to write.

The hours passed unheeded and it wasn't until he heard the door open that he knew it was her. When he lifted his head, the light was fading, casting the room in shadow. One the desk before him sat the letter. He stared at it, the words written there cathartic, though now that he was faced with the soft footsteps of his Kelsalis entering the room, his courage faltered. He tightened his jaw as he folded the parchment and capped the pen once more, slipping it into the drawer.

He slipped the pages into an envelope and sealed it securely as she interrupted the silence that he usually found such comfort in. Now though, the silence was something that mocked him. "Severus? Are you all right?" There was a note of concern in her voice as she moved to the wardrobe to put away her bag. He turned in the chair, rising to his feet as he studied her.

She was rumpled and windblown, her cheeks red from having forgotten a scarf, and slightly damp from the rain. Severus did not answer but merely stared, watching her in silence. She pushed her coat off, clad once more in those ridiculous muggle clothes that didn't flatter her slender form in the least.

Severus steeled himself against the guilt that niggled at him, schooling his face into an expression of careful neutrality as he broke the stillness of the room, gesturing toward the wardrobe. "Pack your things, Madam."

Sara's brow knit together in a frown, stammering out the words. "Wh.. what? Why?"

The hurt reflected in those pretty blue eyes struck him to his core and he injected a layer of ice into his voice that would stop a hippogriff in its tracks. "Do not question me, Kelsalis. Pack your things. You will travel by Portkey in half an hour." She reacted as if he'd physically struck her. Her anger burgeoned in his own chest, a strange sense of loss pervading him as keenly as if it had been her own. Severus clenched his jaw for a moment, the severity of his actions striking him anew as he stared at her. He quoted the words as perfectly as if he meant them, and when they hit home, he knew she believed each and every one of the cruel syllables. "You are not pleasing to me, Madam. You continue to dress in those hideous clothes, you neglect my home in favor of gallivanting all over the city in pursuit of your own pleasures, and your inexperience in matters of bed sport is simply unacceptable."

She took a step back, her cheeks reddening. He could feel her anger mounting, rolling through his own belly. He pressed onward, though, doing his best to keep his voice cold despite the horror of what he did. "You are altogether a poor excuse for a wife, Madam and you are a burden I will not bear any further this summer. Pack your things, Mrs. Snape. I will be back in half an hour with the Portkey."

Severus stepped around her, glancing back as she sank to her knees on the floor. To her credit, she did not sob, though his own eyes stung, his vision blurring. He tucked the envelope into the front pocket of her backpack and continued his journey to the door. She would not forgive him. He would not forgive himself though, if he hadn't done what needed to be done.

Half an hour later, he placed the Portkey on the bedside table quietly, speaking not another word as he turned to go. As he had commanded of her, her obedient nature for once biting him in the ass, he heard the Portkey activate from his place outside the bedroom door. He was grateful in the moment, for the solid wood between them that stopped him from doing something stupid. His own words rang in his ears, the unbelievable cruelty of what he'd just done. When the silence came once more, he drew in a breath to steady himself and pushed the door open.

He found himself alone in the room, the wardrobe open and empty, her desk barren, and once more the familiar cold stillness settled over the little house on Spinner's End.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N – The last couple of chapters of part one are on their way! In this chapter we find out a bit more about Sara's real life, away from Severus. The concept of the enchanted diary is a new spin on an old plot tool found in many fics, please enjoy! Thank you so much for the kind reviews.

This chapter is for NanamiYatsumaki. Just because I can.

Feedback makes me smile!

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Fourteen

* * *

August and September came and went, October was now bleeding ever so softly into November and autumn had come to Durham, North Carolina with a vengeance, but still the ache in her chest didn't abate. Her first week back she'd done nothing but pace her little house and cry. The second week was a bit better. By the third, the tears had dried and she'd almost managed to convince herself that it had all been an illusion. The bruises on her body from their last encounter had faded, but the bruises on her wearied spirit… it would take far more time. Even now, she'd refused to unpack the backpack she'd carried with her, save for her laptop and a few vitals pages tucked into it. And still she carried it every day, like the pathetic basket case she was. She tucked the bag beneath her desk as she picked up the messages that were piled high after the weekend. Halloween was only a few days away, and still she couldn't bring herself to face it.

She lifted her coffee and took a sip of the scaling brew inside that passed for coffee as she flipped through the messages. It was just after five in the morning, too early for her to yet be expected to be into autopsy, but then she hadn't been sleeping so well lately. The messages were weeded out, the pile of envelopes coming next. A few inquiries, a few pieces of not so vital paperwork requests, nothing too interesting. However, what caught her eye lay in the middle of the pile, innocuous and sticking out like a sore thumb was a thick envelope, made of parchment paper. Sara froze. The unfamiliar handwriting brought a twinge of pain to her chest. She tamped down on it as she ever did, dropping into her chair to toss the other letters aside, studying the envelope more closely.

The address was the most curious part. "Dr. Sara Snape, Autopsy Room, Duke Hospital, Durham, North Carolina." The oddest part was that there was no stamp, but there it had been, tucked in with the rest of her mail as if it belonged there. Sara sighed and reach for her letter opener, slicing neatly into the envelope. Three smaller envelopes fell out onto her desk in a neat stack. She reached for the one on top, the spidery handwriting all too familiar. She toyed with the envelope for a moment, running her fingers over the edge before setting it aside. No. No letters from Severus until at least her second cup of coffee.

Curiosity drove her further though, she'd never received so much as a postcard from him in the entire time they'd been married. A flicker of worry crossed her mind before she pushed it aside and reached for the second in the pile. The handwriting on this one was distinctly feminine and the faint scent of cookies brought a grin to her face. Instantly she knew who it was from and did not hesitate to rip the envelope open, reaching for her coffee cup and unfolding the page within.

_Dear Sara, _

_Arthur and I were so disappointed when Severus told us that you had been called back to the United States on urgent matters. We were quite pleased to meet you and had hoped to have some time to get to know you better. It's not every day that Severus presents us not only with a woman, but a wife as well. Heaven knows he's not the most social man, certainly not the kind to pay a woman notice unless she is of a particular sort. What sort that is, Arthur and I have never been able to agree on, but it was a pleasant surprise to find he had finally found a lovely young woman to settle down with. Albus has kindly offered to send this letter to you with his own, kind man that he is. We hope you are well, and that you remember us as fondly as we remember you. We will be having a small gathering for Christmas Eve, just a few friends, nothing fancy, but if there is the chance you are nearby, please join do join us if you don't already have plans. There's always room for you at the Burrow, Sara. We're looking forward to hearing from you. Arthur is particularly curious as to what it's like to live among American muggles. I swear that man is going to put an eye out with one of his contraptions one day! Wishing you the best! _

_Most sincerely, _

_Molly Weasley_

Sara read and reread the letter. The warmth of the older woman was something that had stayed with her as the months had passed. Never had she felt so welcomed so quickly as she had those few hours in the Weasley home. They reminded her of the Potts family, the kind wizarding family that had taken her in after the death of her own parents when she'd been barely more than an infant. They were the only family she'd ever known, and never failed to treat her as kindly as they had their own children. She tucked the letter into her bag and moved onto the next, Dumbledore's handwriting as recognizable as it ever was. He wrote with some regularity. Small notes, kind in tone, but nothing more intimate than propriety dictated. In truth, she barely knew the man beyond the letters, but he seemed to know her quite well.

Never the less, she opened the envelope and unfolded the letter within, the thick and heavily refined lettering as bold as the old man was sly.

_My dear Professor Snape, _

_How it tickles me to call you that! I've received word from our old mutual friend Mrs. Potts that you have been granted the position you applied for at your University. I'm quite pleased with the reports she's given me over the past few years. It does this old man's heart good to know that you have done so well despite the circumstances of your delicate situation._

Sara's heart skipped a beat. Was it possible he knew why Severus had sent her away? She took another sip of her coffee to fortify herself and read on.

_I'm not entirely sure what happened this summer between you and Severus, I only know that when the term began, he was in a foul mood. And by a foul mood, my dear, I mean more foul than usual. I would not dare to interfere in your marriage lest I find myself under the wrath of a very mercurial man. However, I must ask one favor of you, dear Sara, if you would be so kind as to grant it. Accept Molly's kind invitation to come for Christmas, so I may speak with you about a matter of great importance to me. Severus need not know you have come, if you wish. _

Sara blinked at the page, staring at the words as if to do so would make some new meaning clear. She sighed and shook her head, continuing on to the last bit.

_He does not show his feelings often, Sara. But he has asked me to enclose a letter to you as well. Knowing you as I do, dear, I'd suggest you pick it up from whatever corner you have shoved it in and open it. It is my great hope to see you at Christmas. _

_Kindest Regards, _

_A Dumbledore_

The letter was folded carefully and returned to her bag as she reached for the third and final one. Her heart pounded within her chest as she opened it carefully, extracting the single page from within. The missive was brief, containing only a handful of words, and held a world of curiosity for her. She clutched her coffee mug in one hand like a lifeline as she let her eyes scan the page.

_Madam Snape, _

_I'm sorry._

_S. Snape._

A hysterical giggle burst forth from her as she pictured him laboring for hours over two simple words. If she knew anything about the man, it was that he never acted hastily. She lowered the letter to her desk, staring at it as she cradled her near empty mug in both hands. The apology was more than she'd hoped for, but briefly, vainly, she wondered just why he was apologizing. Which part was he sorry for? Fucking her and leaving her a quivering mess or essentially calling her a silly little girl. She reached for her pen, tucking the letter to the side as she checked the clock. A quarter past. She had forty five minutes to perfect her response. Best get cracking.

* * *

Severus glared down the long tables in the great hall. The students were fall too cheerful, and he was far too old. Granted, thirty six was not terribly old by most definitions, but as the years past, it felt he was aging at a three to one ratio. The owls began to swoop in, letters dropping over the breakfast table. He didn't so much as bat and eye. There were rarely letters for him, and he was expecting today to be no different. However, when a large, mottled and rather mangy looking barn owl dropped the letter before him and then trilled at him softly, his hand shot out, gracefully snagging the letter before it could drop into his porridge. The owl hopped to perch on the back of the chair, settling in with a soft hoot of exhaustion. Severus frowned at it as he felt the eyes of the students burning into him. He knew the soft, feminine handwriting immediately, yet it still made his heart lurch within his chest. The owl behind him gave a soft trill as it hopped to nudge at his hand.

Absently, he gave it an awkward pet before shooing it away. It hopped to the back of the chair once more. Obviously the bloody menace was going to wait for a response. Severus ignored the whisperings of the students at the Gryffindor table, closest to where he sat. He carefully broke the seal on the muggle envelope and slipped the paper out to unfold it. A single sheet. Was she mocking him? It had taken him weeks to find the right words to write to her, and weeks longer to get up the courage to sent the blasted thing. What he found there was just as short, just as formal as his own had been to her.

_Professor Snape, _

_You are forgiven._

_S. Snape _

His heart did not sink though, instead, something within him took flight and soared. Some small ray of hope blossoming in him, an unfamiliar and fragile thing, as tiny as a newborn creature. He pushed his chair back, breakfast forgotten as he shoved the hastily refolded letter into the envelope once more and swept from the room, the mangy owl trailing behind him, shedding feathers as it hustled to keep up.

It was not until that evening that he realized… he had forgotten to deduct points from Gryffindor, not even when a first year had managed to break the Grindylow enclosure and get himself bitten. He hadn't even so much as glared, but sighed and patted his pocket where the letter was tucked away. Three days passed before he found the time to slip away into Hogsmeade and the small bookshop there. The blasted owl still trailed after him like a lost puppy. He ignored the giggles of girls and the curious looks of the boys, even taking to ensuring it was granted time outdoors each he finally managed to make it to the bookshop, the damn thing had even waited contently on a bench outside, happy as if it were a trained circus animal.

Severus found what he needed and gladly plunked the ten galleons for the pair of journals onto the counter. The man behind the counter gave him a friendly smile and Severus caught himself nodding politely. What the hell was this? He was almost… nice. Unacceptable. He schooled his face into his customary sneer as he accepted the wrapped package and made his way back to the school just as the sun began to sink over the horizon. He glanced toward the owl, speaking softly. "Best go and hunt tonight, silly beast, tomorrow you are going home." The owl seemed to understand, hooting softly before bolting off toward the forest.

True to form, the next morning, the journals were securely wrapped and fastened to the owl's midsection with a sturdy leather harness. The animal gave a nip to Severus's ear before it took flight from the courtyard. A gasp came from behind him. Severus turned to see the Granger girl staring at him as if he'd grown a third head. "What?" He snapped the word more harshly than he'd intended.

She colored as she stammered out the words. "I … just… I've never seen an owl be so…"

It took all his self-control not to smirk. Instead he fixed a sneer on his face as he strode past her. "There are some creatures in this world, Miss Granger, who find my company tolerable. Let us both be grateful you aren't one of them." With that he ambled on, resisting the urge to whistle a merry tune as he went. Was _this _what happy felt like? He could get used to it.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N- Decided to push out just one more chapter for tonight. Call it compensation for having shorted you guys during my usual Wednesday updating sprees. This chapter concludes the first part of the story. There will be a bridge section, and then chapter two. Total projected finishing word count stands at about 60-80k total. So we're right about halfway done! Hang in there, gang!

As usual, I own nothing but Sara, a Kel, and Kelsalis.

Enjoy, Snow.

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Fifteen

* * *

The days passed quickly and before she knew it, more than a week had gone by with still no sign of Roger. The owl had been hers since she had first started school, and though he was getting on in years and was a bit crotchety in his old age, he was still as loyal and loving as ever. Sara tossed her keys on the table, the long day having taken its toll. It was nearly dark, but the whoosh of feather jerked her from her reverie. Roger settled himself on the perch by the backdoor, giving a trill of annoyance. She broke into a smile, her hand rising to ruffle the feathers at the back of the bird's head as her fingers set to working loose the harness strapped around his body. "Hey buddy, no wonder it took you so long." The owl nipped gently at her thumb in approval, shaking his entire body the instant he was relieved of his burden and darted out the open window once more.

Sara dropped the harness onto the table and considered the package in her hand. It could come from only one source. The twine fell away with a few tugs, the brown paper wrapping yielding easily next. A slender black leather book was revealed. Sara's brow knit together as she flipped through the pages, finding the unlined and blank. Only when she flipped the cover over did she find the familiar writing. Her heart gave a lurch in her chest as she moved to flip on the coffee pot and lean against the counter, settling in to read what she found there.

_I cannot apologize enough for the harsh words I spoke. I can only plead temporary madness. In hopes that your letter expressing forgiveness is true, I offer this token, such as it is. This journal holds a very special charm within its pages. Whatever you write here will be protected and cannot be seen by anyone, save the two of us. Fill it, Sara. When you come for Christmas (Yes, I do know about Molly's plan. Dumbledore has loose lips with a glass or two of firewhiskey in him) bring this with you.I can't get away from the school for the holidays, but I will arrange to see you for a time when you are with the Weasleys, if only for an hour or two. Sara, I want to know you. And for pity's sake, next time send an owl that doesn't look like it has been scalped by angry goblins. It was quite embarrassing to have that mangy thing following me around for three days. Did you know it bites? –S._

Sara's heart skipped a beat and for one wild moment, it seemed almost a declaration of some kind, something she had never seen before. A wild giggle burst forth from her as she glanced up toward the window. She laughed then, full and long and loud without caring who might here. She closed the journal gently and turned to pull down her favorite mug, pouring herself a fresh cup of coffee as Roger reappeared through the open window. She glanced toward her owl, surveying him for a moment before shaking her head. "Next time bite him harder, he deserves it for being an idiot."

Roger, for his part, closed his eyes and began the wheezing that signaled he was done for the day. Sara stifled a laugh and murmured the words softly as she scratched one of the bare spots on his back lightly. "Sleep well, buddy. You earned it."

She rummaged in the kitchen drawer for her favorite pen and lifted her coffee. It was only when she was situated in her favorite arm chair in front of the fire she didn't really need that she opened the journal and setting pen to paper, began to write.

* * *

Dumbledore watched from his chair as Snape ambled up the center aisle of the great hall toward the breakfast table. A curious smile lit the pale man's features as his attention was riveted to the lined muggle notebook paper he held. Albus broke into a grin as he chuckled. Beside him Minerva leaned closer, her voice soft as she murmured the words. "Is it just me, or is Severus… smiling, Albus?"

Dumbledore chuckled, bending his head closer as he hid his smile behind his cup of pumpkin juice, his voice low. "Life is full of small miracles every day, Minerva."

Minerva McGonagall stared toward the younger man, her voice still soft. "He smiles every time one of those letters arrive, but this is the first time I've seen him do it in public. Really, it's disconcerting."

Snape rounded the table, dropping into his seat as he reached for his tea. "You know, I can hear you." He spoke smoothly as he folded the letter and tucked it back into the paper envelope it had arrived in. "Yes, I am capable of smiling, Minerva. I simply don't have much of a reason most days given the lackwits I spend my day teaching."

McGonagall relaxed visibly. "Well, it's good to see your acid tongue is still well intact, Severus. And a good morning to you."

Dumbledore watched with half a smile as Severus gave a curt nod and turned his attention to his breakfast. Minerva steered the conversation to the impending holidays, and Albus as usual, pretended to listen. His attention however was focused firmly on Severus. Dumbledore nodded to something that Minerva said. "That's very true. A Valentine's ball would be enjoyed by all the student's I think, but it's a bit premature for that. Given the gravity of certain events, I'm not sure it's a good idea to distract the students from their studies." He paused before forging onward. "Tell me, Severus, what are your plans for the holidays?"

The younger man lifted his head, clearly startled. He glanced toward the other two before shifting his eyes to the other end of the table. He lowered his voice, the tips of his ear, barely visible beneath the inky strands of dark hair that fell over his face, turning beet red. It took all of Dumbledore's self-restraint not to chuckle as he heard the words the Professor spoke. "It's my year to babysit the students who will remain at the school for the holidays." It was a task Dumbledore knew Severus hated, but the other man bore it with minimal complaint.

Albus however, was not entirely satisfied. "Is that all?"

Severus's cheek began to color next, his posture stiffening as his voice went flat, and Albus knew in that moment his hopes had been realized. "Sara will be visiting the Weasleys for several days. You yourself signed my request to have her visit over Christmas Eve night, Headmaster. Don't pretend you forgot, we both know you're not quite senile, yet."

Albus chuckled as Minerva gasped beside him. Dumbledore remained quiet as Minerva seized the morsel and ran with it, as he'd known she would. "I'd completely forgotten about her." Minerva broke into a brilliant smile. "Severus, why didn't you ever tell me you still had her?"

Beside her Severus choked, mid-swallow on his tea. He reached for his napkin coughing to clear his throat, his voice holding a hardened edge as he answered. "Still had? What did you think happened, Minerva? Did you think I'd misplaced her like a pair of socks?" He frowned, snorting to himself before rising to his feet once more, his form smile now replaced by the more familiar stormy expression. "I'm not hungry anymore."

Dumbledore waited until the younger man had disappeared in a billowing swirl of black before her finally let loose the long, low laugh that had been threatening. His eyes twinkled as he turned his gaze onto Minerva. "Ah, my dear, it seems I was right after all. She … is just what he needed."

Minerva sniffed in that delicate way of hers. "Very well, I owe you ten galleons, but you needn't be so smug about it."

* * *

December crawled by, the school blanketed in a quiet world of white, seeming to insulate it from the outside, cocooning it safely, suspending it in a place where time and space seemed not to exist. For Severus Snape, the days passed slowly. The papers he had marked were completed and set in a corner of his desk, waiting to be returned to the students when the holidays were over. The latest letter from Sara sat unopened on the desk before him. He stared at it for a moment before lifting it, his fingers skimming over the surface of the envelope. She invariably wrote to him on muggle paper, the distinctive lined pages that he'd grown to look forward to, however cautiously. Each passing letter contained precious bits of information, answers to his own questions, and pieces of the woman he'd wed but never really known.

He knew now that she lived in a small house in the woods just outside the city of Durham, in North Carolina. He'd looked it up on a map after her first real letter had arrived. The Portkey he'd prepared for her over the summer had been hastily readied, intended to take her simply to a place he'd designated in the spell as 'home', but until October, he'd had no true clue where that was located. She worked at a University, though she'd never mentioned what department. Her dissertation had been accepted and her new job apparently required long hours. Her handwriting frequently betrayed her tired state. He wondered, had she always worked such long hours, even when she was simply a student?

Sometimes, there was an underlying tone of sadness when she talked about her work, allusions to some piece of a puzzle which she never fully gave him. Three days. She would be arriving tomorrow to the Weasleys via Portkey. Three days later, she'd be with him again. Severus smiled, never seeing the gentle expression that softened the hard lines of his face as he ripped the envelope open and drew the letter out, unfolding it slowly, savoring the anticipation. The scent of vanilla clung to the paper and he caught himself holding it closer for a moment. Merlin's beard, the woman had made him soft and she wasn't even here. The letter was lowered until the squiggles of her meticulous, feminine handwriting formed legible words.

_Professor Snape, _

_As you've instructed, I've packed more than muggle denim and men's shirts for this trip. Though to be perfectly fair, my clothes are comfortable, even if they are a bit unattractive. By the time you get this, I'll most likely be attempting to figure out how to survive a Portkey without getting violently ill again. It's not my favorite mode of transportation. Thank you, by the way, for arranging for the shipment of my bike from Spinner's End. It arrived last week and there wasn't so much as a scratch on it! I'll be sure to avoid mentions of things that are private to the 'Potter brat', though I don't honestly know who that is or why the opinions of a teenage boy would matter to you. I have to admit, I'm more nervous for this trip than I have been for the others in the past. I couldn't tell you why if you asked me. All I can really say, is that I'm anxious to see you again, to know that you're well and see your face for myself. I'll send word by owl when I arrive at the Burrow, to let you know I got there safely. I'll see you in a few days, my Kel. _

_Anxiously, _

_S. Snape_

Severus lowered the letter, his gaze flicking toward the window. The sun was sinking low in the sky, ticking away the hours. He willed it to go faster, and in that moment he knew that it was true. He wanted to see her as well. For the first time, in a long time, he had something to look forward to. The hope that had burgeoned two months before now roared to a full flame. Perhaps she didn't hate him. Perhaps, she might even smile at him again. He had so missed that smile.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N- Bridge chapter 1/3- Christmas with the Weasleys!That's all for tonight, good night folks!

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Sixteen

* * *

Sara opened her eyes, the wave of nausea that washed over her nearly bringing her breakfast up. The shoelace she gripped in one hand was promptly shoved into her pocket. She despised Portkeys with a passionate hatred of a thousand burning suns. The sound of the front door opening and the shout of a familiar voice brought her gaze upward. The nausea began to recede as Ron Weasley surged forward, bounding off the porch toward her. "Mum's been beside herself all morning waiting for you! How's it?" He beamed at her, reaching to tug her suitcase from her grip.

Sara gave him a smile and gladly let him take it. "Careful with that! There's something breakable inside."

He gave her a cheerful grin as he gestured toward the house. "Come on in, then. Bloody cold out here." Sara was inclined to agree, though thankfully there was no snow on the ground. She made her way into the house, at once feeling at ease. Though she'd spent less than 24 hours here on her last visit, there was something about the place that was soothing to the soul.

Instantly, she was wrapped in warmth as Molly Weasley gathered her close. Sara laughed softly, her arms winding around the other woman, returning the embrace before releasing her. Molly took a step back to survey her a moment. "Ah, it's good to see you. We're so glad you could make it, come on in, Sara. Are you hungry? We've just finished up lunch, but I saved you some lamb stew."

Sara had forgotten for a moment, just how many Weasleys she'd heard there were. Judging from the parade of people though, there were not only Weasleys present, but apparently everyone in England had come for lunch too. Sara broke into a smile at the sight of Arthur, who gave her a broad grin from his place in the living room. "Welcome, Sara. Welcome! And under better circumstances this time!"

She found herself herded into the kitchen as the conversation flowed around her, barely catching every third word the Weasleys exchanged between themselves. Molly directed her toward a chair. "Sit, sit! Lamb stew, dear?"

The scent of the stew filled the kitchen and Sara couldn't resist the grin that crossed her face. She gave a nod. "Yes, please. And, if it's not too much trouble, may I use one of your owls to send a letter? Severus will want to know I've arrived safely." She lowered her backpack to the ground and unzipped the front large pocket where she'd stuffed her work, fishing out a small steno pad and the bic pen she wouldn't feel guilty about losing.

"Owl?" Ron's voice came from the bottom of the staircase. "Errol's not the brightest, but he'll get it there eventually." The blunt honesty in the boy's voice only resulted in her grin broadening as she flipped open the notepad to jot a quick note, ripping the page off and folding it in on itself before shoving the pad back into her bag. "Eventually will do, though sooner is better."

Three more teenagers appeared behind Ron, three more sets of eyes peering toward the kitchen. Sara lifted a brow as the whispers drifted toward her.

"Is that her? Really?" The dark-haired boy with glasses stared at Sara as if expecting her to grow a second head.

The young woman beside him, the one distinctly noticeable as not a Weasley due to her untamed locks, glanced back at him. "Well, who else would it be?"

Behind the pair, Ginny Weasley, who brought up the rear leaned closer. "That's her. She's actually quite nice. Not as scary as him at all."

Apparently, today's youth had no concept of modulating a whisper to be unheard. Ron's ears reddened as the bespectacled boy edged around them, him now presenting himself as the brave one of the quartet. "If you need an owl, you're welcome to use Hedwig. She can be there and back before you know it, that is if she's going to Hogwarts. And I'm assuming that's what you mean… given who you're supposed to be. I mean… they say you are." The boy's ear's reddened as an awkward silence fell over the room. "Is it really true? Are you… you know?"

Sara glanced toward Arthur who had taken a seat in the chair just beside her at the head of the table. The man lowered his head to hide a smile. "Sara, these are Ron's two best friends. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Harry, Hermione, this is Sara."

Her gaze flicked between the two teenagers, some sadistic part of her finding their discomfort of vast amusement. Severus has apparently rubbed off on her, because she couldn't resist making the nosy young man squirm for a moment longer. "I don't know, Mr. Potter. Who do they say I am?"

The girl with him seemed to prickle under Sara's words. She surged forward next, her chin lifting as she spoke. "Ron said that Professor Snape got married. Harry and I didn't believe him, of course. But then we got here and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley said it as well, so you must be her. You're Professor Snape's wife, aren't you?"

Sara leaned back into her chair, passing the note she had secured closed in an envelope and accepted the bowl of stew from Molly with a smile. She knew now, just why these kids would annoy her Kel so very badly. They were, as teenagers tended to be, rather noisy. However, they seemed only curious, not overtly rude. Sara broke into a smile as she lifted her spoon. "Oh, that. Yes. In this case, the proverbial _they _got it right."

The first bite of the stew warmed her from the inside out and she let her eyes slip closed for a moment as she savored the burst of flavors on her tongue. Arthur passed the note quietly toward the Potter boy and gave him a smile. "Harry, if you would, please?"

"Right, of course. Right away." His voice was soft, though a strange kind of catch was in it.

Sara glanced up as she offered him a grin. "Thank you, Mr. Potter."

The lad, to his credit, only stumbled a little on his way up the stairs. "No problem at all.. Mrs… Snape."

She watched him go before breaking into a soft laugh as she shifted her eyes back toward Molly. "Are they all terrified of Severus?"

Molly Weasley's lips twitched as the other teens lingered for a moment before drifting off toward the sitting room. "Well, yes. Severus isn't the most social man, is he? And he has a kind of ferocity about him that holds people, especially children, at bay. Most of the kids at the school are terrified of him, and with good reason." Molly lowered into the chair across from her, a frown marring her usually happy features. "Oh listen to me. I'm sorry, I don't mean anything by it. Severus is a good man, just very private."

Sara took another bite of the stew, chewing slowly, waiting until she'd swallowed to speak. "I'm not offended. You're absolutely right. He _is_ a good man and he _is_ very private. But if he's instilled a fear of himself into the children at that school, it's not my place to judge him. I'm sure he has his reasons and I won't begrudge him that."

Arthur's warm gaze flicked up toward the stairs as Potter reappeared for a moment before retreating into the living room with his friends. His voice was low. "Severus was particularly close to Harry's mother as a boy. When she died, he took it particularly hard. There's an animosity between Harry and Severus. None of us really know what it was like for him, or what really happened. It's that wall, you see. No one can get through it without a battering ram."

Molly rested a hand on top of Arthur's for a moment. "He's a bit like family, though he doesn't see it that way. Some things, some experiences, they bond you beyond friendship. That's what it is with Severus, that's why Kreacher brought you two here that day. Severus does not consider us friends, but we consider him one. We trust him. Dumbledore trusts him, and so we will continue to trust him." There was something in her underlying words that spoke to something that Sara knew nothing of.

She quietly smiled as she worked at her stew, her gaze flicking back toward the living room as she digested this information. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "Dumbledore is the one who introduced us. I'm grateful to him. Though Severus is not the kind to say much, when he does speak, it's with purpose." She paused for a moment, her heart beating a rapid tattoo inside her chest as her smile softened. "I've missed him. And I'm a little excited to see him."

Arthur chuckled quietly. "He sent an owl this morning, to let us know he'd be here by floo and to please have you ready by five."

Sara snickered despite herself. "Yes, that does sound like him. Have me ready,as if I were one of the children." She smiled despite herself and pushed the empty bowl away. "Arthur, I have something for you."

The change of subject was abrupt, but Arthur Weasley mere gave her another of those warm smiles as she reached into her backpack and drew out the book, extending it to him. "It's a bit early, but Severus mentioned in one of his letter that you have a fascination with airplanes. I found this at a bookstore near where I work. I thought you might enjoy it."

Arthur accepted the book, tearing away the brown paper it was wrapped in and reading the title aloud. "How do Airplanes Fly? 101 Things You Never Knew About Aviation." His eyes widened, his finger gripping the book tightly, as if she'd just given him the greatest gift in the history of the world. In that moment, Sara knew it was twenty bucks well spent. "Thank you, Sara. This is… it's just… it's lovely." The older man's eyes misted as he cleared his throat. "If you'll excuse me. I think I have something in my eye."

Molly suppressed a smile as the man rose and walked away, sliding over to take his seat. She gave a grin as she patted Sara's hand. "Now then, Sara. You must tell me all about this job of yours. We've been ever so curious. Tell me, dear… what exactly is an 'autopsy'?"


	17. Chapter 17

A/N- I'm attempting to type this chapter on a new word processing app on my iPad to save my back after hours or sitting at my desk everyday. And we're talking literally ALL day. I'm a writer by trade and as well am a computer science major so 99% of my waking hours are spent on computers. So please forgive any major typos that may come from this chapter, and as usual, thanks for hanging in there with me! On to the show!

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Seventeen

* * *

Severus tugged at the collar of the muggle turtleneck he wore, black of course. The jeans were a new acquisition and he wasn't quite sure how he felt in them. Bare was the word that came to mind. Immodest was another. Though he as covered head to toe, the difference in the weight of the clothing from the robes he wore most of the time was astonishing. They were so much lighter. He looked ... ridiculous.

There was no time to change his mind or his clothing, though. He stared at himself for a moment longer before cursing fluidly beneath his breath and tugging on the sturdy wool coat, also black. Without pausing to wait for the clock on the mantle to chime the quarter before the hour, he turned to stalk out the door and begin the long trek to the gates of the school. At least the chances of being seen were minimal. The last thing he wanted was to deal with the few stray teenagers who'd remained in the castle for the holiday. He had neither the time nor the patience for it right now.

As soon as he cleared the gates, he apparated directly to the Three Broomsticks. With in moments, he'd slipped to the nearest fireplace, nodding his thanks to Rosmerta as he reached in for the floo powder. His voice rang through the mostly empty room, announcing his destination to three drunks in the corner and two snogging teenagers just beneath the stairs. "The Burrow, Sitting Room." Only a second later he emerged from the hearth, relatively unscathed save for the residual dizziness and incomprehensible desire to sneeze that invariably followed him where floo travel was concerned. He dusted himself off just as the sound of a gasp emitted from the girls tucked onto the sofa touched his ears. "Professor!You're early."

Snape drew himself up to his full height as he glanced to where the Weasley girl and Granger sat curled up as if they were felines grooming one another, open books littering the table, floor, and couch around them. He remained silent as Granger's cheeks colored, turning almost as bright as Ginny's hair. He forced a hint of a smile. "I think you'll find, Miss Granger, that I am precisely on time. I am always precisely on time."

The girl had the decency to look abashed as she glanced furtively toward her friend, as though asking for help. Severus had always suspected that Ginny Weasley had gotten the biggest helping of brains in the family and now she confirmed it by shaking her head firmly, refusing flat out to help dig whatever hole the other girl had started, even deeper. Granger offered him a hesitant smile as she began to set aside the parchment and quill she held. "I haven't seen Sara come down, she may not be ready yet. Shall I go and fetch her?"

Severus's forced smile did not so much as budge as he stared at her, his gaze narrowing. She realized her mistake as she rose from the couch. "I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't realize... she told us ... to.. umm... call her... I'll just go and get her. Mrs. Snape that is." He inclined his head to her slightly, not speaking on her altogether unacceptable lever of familiarity with his Kelsalis. It was, after all, Christmas and one had to be moderately charitable. The girl disappeared up the stairs.

Ginny Weasley remained quiet, though he could feel her eyes on him as she studied him. When she broke the quiet, her words were not what he expected. "You look nice. She'll like that."

Severus's head swiveled to stare at the girl, his brow lifting. Somewhere on the upper floors, a flurry of feminine voices came. Snape was saved from having to grope for an answer as movement caught his eye.

Potter thundered down the stairs, a suitcase in hand. For one horrid moment, Severus though perhaps the brat intended to join them. Ridiculous. The fleeting thought, stupid thought that it had been, left as quickly as it had come as Potter's smile disappeared at the sight of him. "Professor." A slight nod was given. Apparently the truce of the Weasley household still stood.

Snape gave a singular nod in return. "Potter." Potter extended the suitcase toward him, no more than an overnight bag really.

Severus accepted it warily as Potter spoke. "Mrs. Snape will be down in a moment. She's just doing something... that girls do. Hair or.. make up... something."

Potter shook his head and took off making a beeline for the kitchen. Severus gripped the suitcase, his discomfort mounting as he stood there, feeling foolish. Was this how it felt to wait for a date? He'd never actually been on a real date. Did one date their wife? The question rose in his mind, and he found himself honestly curious. Should he have brought flowers? Panic set in for a split second. He had a gift for her, he knew that much about Christmas, but it was back at Hogwarts in his quarters. He glanced toward The Weasley on the couch to find Ginny observing him with bare curiosity.

She rose fluidly from the couch and crossed the room toward him, leaning to glance toward the kitchen before her voice lowered, some bit of concern bleeding into her tone. "Professor, please don't take this the wrong way... but is there any reason you look like you're about to pass out? You're a bit pale, even for you."

Severus stared at her, torn between genuine confusion at her tone and the innate need to stomp down anyone who viewed him as weak. He stared at her, unaware of the way his eyes softened with his confusion. He glanced toward the stairs, sighing a bit as he lowered his voice. "Should I have flowers or something?" Surprise flitted over the girl's face. Apparently she'd expected him to snap at her as he usually would have. But in that moment, beggars couldn't be chooser and he needed help more than he needed to scare her.

Ginny Weasley broke into a smile as she shrugged. "Flowers are always nice, Professor. But I expect she'd be happier with a smile and a kiss. Just remember to tell her she looks nice."

Snape frowned deeply then. "But what if she doesn't?" He knew Sara all too well. She was a beautiful woman, but clad as she usually was in oversized clothing that hid that figure and swallowed her whole, nice was not the word he'd use for her appearance. Perhaps, unappealing.

Ginny bit her lower lip and for a moment he suspected she was attempting to hold back a laugh. His lips thinned into a grim line, a snarl threatening him as she shook her head, whispering the words urgently as the sound of footsteps descending from the upper floors drifted down. "It doesn't matter. First rule about women, Professor, all women, always tell them they look pretty. Even if they don't. Tell her she does."

She glanced past him toward the stairs, and actually had the audacity to pat his forearm lightly. "Smile, kiss her, and tell her she looks pretty. It works in an argument too." She beamed as she retreated back to the sofa as Granger appeared at the bottom of the steps, Sara just behind her.

Any worries he had about having to lie to her fled instantly. Her own anticipation echoed in his chest, his pulse fluttering in mimicry of her own as he simply stared. She was beautiful. Her hair was pulled back into some kind of twisted, a few strands loose, framing delicate features in a way that begged him to plunge his fingers into the curls and tug her close. The muggle dress she wore as not like any muggle clothing he'd ever seen her wear. It hit below the knee, the neckline modest, but it clung to her every curve as if it were molded to her frame. The deep purple overskirt skimmed away, something about it capturing the light.

Severus stared at her, shifting the suitcase he held to his other hand. In the next moment he grew painfully aware that they were being watched, by no less than half a dozen sets of eyes, and he suspected perhaps even more. Sara stared right back at him and he was surprised to find her appearing almost stricken. He glanced down for a moment, checking to see if he'd dusted all the ash off himself, perhaps that's why she seemed stunned into silence. Nope, that wasn't it. Severus cleared his throat and made a decision in that moment. The Weasley girl had better be right.

He closed the distance to Sara, bowing his head to brush his lips lightly over her own. It was a chaste contact, but one that instantly sparked a new level of awareness. It was a polite meeting of the lips, as he'd seen Lucius give to Narcissa dozens of times over the years. When he lifted his head, he managed a ghost of a smile, murmuring the words softly as he reached for the backpack that dangled from her fingers, tucking it easily into the hand that held her suitcase. "You look lovely, Mrs. Snape."

Her smile was worth it. That smile he had missed so very much. Sara's cheeked were stained pink almost instantly as she lowered her eyes for a moment before lifting them boldly to his face once more. "Thank you, Mr. Snape. I'm glad to see you're well."

The formality he'd instilled in her saved them now as he took a step back. This he knew, this he could handle. He lifted his chin, watching her intently. "A vast improvement over your appearance when last we met, Madam. Fetch your coat, you've made us quite late already."

Sara relaxed almost instantly, and in that moment he realized that nothing had to change. Not really. Their dynamic had always been on tenuous footing. Perhaps they could make this work without too much need for emotions getting in the way. The relief that unfurled in his chest was not his own, Sara responded as obediently as she ever did, flitting away toward the stairs once more.

Snape lifted a brow as he caught sight of Potter staring at him, glaring as though he'd committed some mortal sin. Severus forced the boy from his mind. For once, just for once night, he was going to have an evening without worrying over the insolent brat. Sara reappeared before him, fingers working to button her coat. Severus gave a nod toward the older Weasley's, an afterthought borne of his years of solitude. "Molly, Arthur. Happy Christmas." With that he turned, jerking his head to indicate the floo powder on the mantle. The Weasley's burst into conversation once more as he and Sara disappeared through the floo.

* * *

Ginny grinned stupidly at the fireplace where her Professor and the American visitor had disappeared through. Never had she seen the man ruffled or nervous, let alone at a loss. She finally released the giggle that had been threatening her since he'd asked her about flowers. Never had she thought for a moment that the fierce man who could wither a full grown dragon with his glare alone would ever worry about flowers.

Behind her, she could feel Harry's glare. "You think its funny, do you? Him treating her like that?"

Ginny sobered as she turned to face Harry. "Like what? He was very sweet to her, for him. You have to admit, you never would have thought anyone would tolerate him, let alone willingly marry him. Sara is kind-hearted, even if she's a bit high strung, and he was genuinely nervous tonight."

Harry frowned at her, unconvinced. "Snape? Nervous? A known death eater... nervous for a date with the woman delusional enough to marry him?"

She merely glanced back toward the fireplace. "You know, Harry, for a smart boy, you can be really thick sometimes."


	18. Chapter 18

A/M- Welcome aboard to those just joining us! This is the third of what was originally three bridge chapters, but now appears it will be closer to four, perhaps five. Be forewarned, this chapter references and foreshadows upcoming light BDSM content. If this makes you squick, hit your back button right about now.

I'm aware this story lacks much in the way of action. There's very little wand flinging and hexing, very low threat threshold from Voldemort. Ms. Rowling did a beautiful job of that on her own. The process of healing, much like this story, is often a quiet affair, one that is transient. So thanks for indulging me and reading my quiet little story. Enjoy!

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Eighteen

* * *

Sara gazed around herself once they were seated in the Three Broomsticks, close to the fire they'd emerged from. The woman behind the counter bustled away, wiping the bar as if her life depended on it. Sara drew her coat more tightly around herself and slid closer to Severus on the hard wooden bench. His eyes were on he in an instant, but he did not speak as he studied her. Sara found herself caught in his gaze, his eyes one her face steadily. Her face burned as she shifted her gaze downward once more. Severus's voice was soft when he finally broke his silence. "It's colder here, I know."

The words burst forth from her before she could stop herself. "You're warm." Her face flushed as she felt his gaze flick to her bare legs. A rueful smile played at her lips for a moment before she nudged him gently. "You didn't warn me there would be snow."

Severus smiled, that same enigmatic smile she had so rarely seen before and in that moment, he looked almost relaxed. He did't push her away, nor shoo her back to her own end of the bench, though. They sat in comfortable silence, Sara sipping at her butterbeer and he at his tea.

By the time their food arrived, Sara had almost managed to relax. It felt oddly like a date. The most awkward date ever. The idea struck her like lightning out of the blue and as she held her fork, hovering it over the lamb on the plate, she stared at him. She blurted the words without thought, without attempting to restrain herself, cringing inwardly the instant she heard herself. "Is this a date, Severus?"

Beside her, he froze, his own fork bearing a bite of roasted potatoes suspended in midair. He cut a glance to her, his expression guarded. For a moment, she half-expected him to snap at her. Instead, he lowered his fork and canted his head to the side. The man was actually thinking about her words. He gave a singular nod before returning his gaze to his plate and as his head bowed, she saw it. The tips of his ears were a telltale red. Severus Snape... was blushing.

Sara quickly ducked her own head and lifted her knife, cutting neatly into the lamb, a strange kind of satisfaction unfurling inside her. She hid a smile as she ate. The rest of the meal was consumed in silence, yet barely an hour later as she walked beside him toward the school, she found herself unable to resist. In his right hand, he carried her suitcase and backpack as if it weighed nothing, his left was empty, tucked into his pocket for warmth.

She wordlessly slipped her hand into his pocket alongside his own, curling her fingers into his larger hand. It was, she mused idly, a perfect fit. His step did not falter, and for a moment she felt no response, until at last, some seconds later, his fingers curled arounds hers, gripping them with a gentleness she'd never known him to display.

Sara relished the contact, however short lived it was, and it was over all too soon. hen they crossed the threshold of the castle, she reluctantly slid her hand from his own, to brush off the dusting of snow that had accumulated on her coat. Her bare legs were freezing, the sturdy black boots she'd worn did little to protect her knees and shins from the vicious cold.

He led the way toward the dungeons, a place Minerva had not shown her on her first and only visit to the castle almost 5 years before. When they came to a stop before a portrait of a grumpy old man, Sara swallowed. "I'd forgotten they move." Her cheeks grew pink as he glanced back at her with an arched brow. Severus murmured the words gently. "My password is Bezoar. You'll need to know it to get in an out, but please be careful should you go wandering the halls, it's easy to get lost."

She nodded and followed him into his quarters. To her astonishment, it was nothing like the depressing little house at Spinner's End she'd come to associate with him. Rich black leather sofas flanked the massive fireplace and the half-submerged windows lent a soft green light to room. Severus glanced toward the fireplace, the fire leaping instantly to life, warming the room. Every available surface was covered with books, though there was a method to the madness. They were stacked neatly, save for a pile on the low table beside one of the couches.

Sara knew instantly it was where Severus sat. He gestured around them. "This is it. It's one of the smaller chambers, but I live here alone, so I don't need much room." She trailed after him as he disappeared through a heavy wooden door and into a bedroom appointed with a massive four poster bed she would get lost in. Her lips curved into a smile as she watched him lower her bags to the ground beside the wardrobe, spinning a slow circle. He gestured to the other door on the opposite side of the room. "Loo is through there."

She gave him a brief flicker of a smile. "It's perfect, not what I expected maybe, but perfect just the same."

He seemed to relax then as he shed his coat and moved to take a seat on the bench at the foot of the bed, his voice holding a note of amusement. "You expected whips and chains and skeletons dangling from the ceiling?"

"Whips and chains are fun, but the skeletons can get their own room." She didn't even attempt to censor herself as she slipped her own coat off and tucked it into the wardrobe. She crouched beside her suitcase, acutely aware of his gaze on her as he slipped his shoes off.

His voice was tight, though his words were not the churlish response she'd expected. "Madam, if you persist in making jokes about my proclivities, you may soon find yourself regretting your words."

Her head lifted from where she was rummaging in her back, her fingers grasping the neatly wrapped package. Sara's face burned as she stared at him in the half-light of the room before she breathed out the words. "What makes you think I'm joking, Severus?"

Severus merely stared at her, his expression unreadable. She drew out the box and rise to her feet, her courage faltering for only a moment under that intense scrutiny. She forced a smile, a note of lightness to her voice. "I don't mind when you're rough with me, at least not like that." Her face burned as the silence fell once more. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I mean, I.. when you... not that I'd ever... before."

Her resolve crumbled as she turned for the door, unable to keep the sting of embarrassment from her cheeks. She remembered his words all too well. She was bad in bed. He'd thrown them at her for whatever reason. But surely he hadn't expected her to be _good_ in bed at that point. She had known only what she'd read in books or found by accident on the internet. Granted her technical knowledge was there, after all, even a virgin didn't walk away from a google search on figging unscathed.

She disappeared quietly back into the living room, shedding her boots as she took a seat quietly on one of the sofas. Long minute passed, how long she didn't know. She didn't even hear him moving, his bare feet silent on the plush persian rug that covered the stone floor.

The box was thrust beneath her nose wordlessly. It was small, and wrapped in plain brown paper. Her gaze flicked up to his face to find him staring at her with that same enigmatic expression that forever confused the hell out of her. He spoke smoothly, as though she'd not just made a complete fool of herself. "I do believe it's customary to give one's wife a Christmas gift."

Sara stared at the box for a moment, lifting a hand to accept it as she spoke quietly. "Thank you." She held it in the palm of her hand for a moment, her eyes moving to his face once more. She plucked up her courage as she picked at the twine holding the package closed, though she couldn't quite meet his eyes. "I know you were right, and I'm sorry."

He frowned then, as if trying to place the purpose of the apology. A moment later, his brow smoothed out as he moved to take a seat on the couch beside her. His words were soft, stilted. "I suppose I should have known it would be brought up. Sara, I had my reasons for sending you home, but rest assured, the reasons I gave you were nothing but lies."

The words shocked her to her core. Her head lifted, her grip tightening on the box he'd handed her. "Then why..."

He shook his head firmly. "My reasons are private and will remain so. Let's not speak of it anymore. I want your time here, however short it is, to be pleasant." He lifted a hand, fingers touching her clenched fist lightly."Open your gift."

Sara stared at him, her head spinning with too many thoughts. "You confuse me. Often." There was a tinge of resignation in her voice, she knew. He lowered his hand, giving no response save to stare at her expectantly. Sara tugged at the twine, letting it drop to her lap, tearing the paper away. Once unwrapped, the plain black box inside was lifted from her fingers. Severus flipped it open to extract the ring inside.

Sara furrowed her brow as she peered at it as he held it up for her examination. "An ouroborus."

To her surprise, pleasure resonated in his voice as he chuckled. "You know what it is." His took her left hand, gently pushing the ring over her third finger. "You've wandered about America long enough without a ring to show you are taken."

The gruffness of his tone surprised her. He released her hand and she bowed her head to study the ring more closely. It was a simple band, an ouroborus etched around the shank. It fit perfectly and she couldn't stop the blush, murmuring the words softly. "Thank you, my Kel. It's beautiful."

Sara's only answer was a nod as he lowered his head to stare at his hands. She reached for the box on the table beside her. "Since I'm here..." She kept her tone light as she placed the box in his lap.

His dark eyes lingered on her face for a moment, a strange light entering them. Wordlessly he began to unwrap it, as methodical as ever as he revealed the wooden box inside. Sara averted her gaze as he fingered the lid for a moment before unlatching it and opening it. Inside, the rolled scroll rested, unobtrusive and instantly recognizable.

Severus lifted it, unrolling it to read the words written there. "It's our contract." His voice was cautious as he rolled it closed once more. "I don't understand."

Sara drew in a shaky breath, her fingers trembling as she reached to for the scroll. She hadn't understood until just then why she'd felt compelled to bring it with her, to return it to him. She held it tightly for a moment before slipping from the couch to kneel beside the fire, placing the scroll onto the hearth.

Without a word, she drew her wand, whispering the spell softly. "Incendio." She heard his harsh intake of breath from behind her as the scroll burst into flames.

He stared at it, his voice suspiciously soft as he spoke. "Explain."

Sara sat back on her heels, tucking away her wand, obliging his command without hesitation. "I don't need it anymore." Severus stared at her wordlessly and she took it as her cue to elaborate. Her eyes lowered to his bare feet as she rose on hands and knees and crawled toward him, planting herself at his feet. She cautiously lifted a hand to tuck her fingers into his own, though she held her end of the conversation with his knees, refusing to meet the obsidian gaze that burned into the top of her head. "The contract was done to provide provisions for my protection."

"Yes." He spoke slowly. "And so why, Sara, did you just reduce it to ash?"

"I don't need it anymore." Sara repeated the words stubbornly. "No more restrictions, no more rules placed on you, nothing to stop you from taking what you need, doing what you please." Her eyes flicked cautiously to his face. "I don't need the contract anymore. When you sent me away, I discovered the worst thing that could happen. And I was okay. A sniveling, sobbing weepy mess for a couple of months, yes, but I lived through it. The worst thing that can happen to me, Severus, is being sent away from you. You've already done that. So I thought... I mean I hoped... that you might understand that I don't want or need the contract to protect me anymore."

She lowered her eyes quickly. He still stared. She fought for words, fought to keep her voice neutral. "I don't expect you to want to be around me often. I know you prefer to be alone. But when we are together, I don't want you bound by that silly piece of paper. I belong to you and ... well... I like it that way. I trust you." Sara realized she was still holding his hand, her fingers tucked into his palm.

She began to draw it back only to have his fingers tightened around her own tightly.

His voice held a note of question to it. "Do you realize what you're doing?"

Her eyes flicked to his face. Severus regarded her seriously, though his gaze darkened with something distinctly predatory. "Do you know what you've done?"

Sara swallowed hard and nodded. "I do know."

He shook his head slowly. "Sara, I don't think you do. The contract was to protect you, but it also restrained me. There are things about me, preferences, dark things that a sweet girl like you has no notion of. The contract destroyed, you kneel in front of me and offer yourself to my whims... not knowing what it is that I might do to you. And so... as much as your gift tempts me, and believe me, it does... look me in the eye, Sara and tell me, do you truly understand what it is that you are asking? If you say yes, there is no turning back."

It was the most she'd ever heard him say at any one time, the silky baritone of his voice dripped with the promises of things she'd googled but never thought she'd experience, as fascinating as they were. His fingers slipped to grasp her wrist tightly as he spoke once more. "It will be as it was in the past for every Kelsalis before you who sacrificed her contract. My control... I can't promise I won't hurt you."

Sara stared up at him, rising to balance on her knees before him. His words struck something within her. There was no fear in her in that moment. She had stopped being afraid of him long ago. Her answer came quietly and simply as she repeated her earlier words. "I don't need the contract anymore, Severus. I want you to do, to take whatever it is that you want or need from me. Hurt me. Heal me. You are my Kel, silly man. Don't you understand yet? I don't have to be yours. I choose to be."


	19. Chapter 19

A/N- Yes. More sex. Rock on.

-Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Nineteen

* * *

Severus watched as the contract was reduced to ash. The implications of Sara's actions, however rash they might be, tugged at him. It grasped his mind firmly in an iron grip and refused to let go. There was something that pulled, something that wound around him, compelled him to grip her wrist more tightly, refusing to release her. "I choose to be." Her final words were soft but firm and Severus found himself captured in those fathomless ice blue orbs.

What would she really do when she found out how he wanted to use her body to purge his demons? How far and how fast would she run when she found herself bound to his bed, silenced with a spell and unable to fight him even if she wanted to? His grip on her wrist loosened as he stared at her, his mind spinning with a heady mix of arousal, power, and possibility.

Sara's eyes flicked away from his face, lowering to the floor, her cheeks reddening. He broke his silence at long last, speaking slowly. "You hate my rules." He stated it as the fact that it was.

Unexpectedly, a ghost of a smile flickered across her face. "No. I just think they're silly. You don't like to talk much, but I'm a woman, Severus. I think the rules just need to be ... tweaked."

Cautiously, he tugged at her wrist, giving in to the urge to have her close as he slid back on the couch and physically hauled her into his lap. "How so?"

She settled in, her bare feet tucked onto the cushion next to them as she curled up. Severus let his hand rest for only a moment on her thigh as he waited for her to speak. Her voice was almost a whisper as he felt her response to his touch unfurl within his own body. "No arguing. Don't ask questions. Those are rules that tie my hands, when I don't understand something, it makes it really hard to... oh God, do that again."

One brow arched, his fingers obligingly sweeping up her inner thigh once more inching closer to her center. Severus bowed his head forward, whatever she'd been saying forgotten as he gave in to the urge to take more. "Continue."

Sara's breathing hitched, her pulse quickening against her ribs, echoed in his own chest. "It's hard to explain thing when you don't let me ask questions or plead my cas..." She broke off into a throaty moan, shuddering as Severus swept his forefinger over her core, the thin barrier of the cloth that covered her already showing signs of dampness. His lips tugged into an involuntary smile, the predatory instinct inside him heightening. His noble intentions of taking things slowly dissolved in that instant. His free hand threaded into her hair, wrenching her head back as his lips claimed hers as he'd wanted to for hours. She shuddered against his fingers, a soft sound of surrender emitting from her.

It was like a drug. His reaction was instant, and all-consuming. His tongue swept over the seam of her lips, demanding entry. Sara trembled, the fragility of her slender form against his only heightening the sense of power that she gave to him, had always given to him so freely. Severus released a groan as he tasted her thoroughly, plundering with teeth and tongue and lips as he claimed the woman that was his.

She had danced on a razor's edge for far too long, lingering on the edges of his mind, consuming his thoughts for months. Now she was here, real, and all too willing. He moved without making a conscious decision, his hand leaving her as he slid from the couch to lower her gently to the floor on her back, balancing above her.

Someday, he would take her slowly, he would feast on her head to toe, but that day was not today. He tore his lips from hers, eyes flicking over her face. Sara's eyes were half-lidded and glazed. Severus simply stared for a moment, his lips curving into a feral smile as he lifted the hand that had somehow come to grip her hip, murmuring the words softly as he stared at her. "Accio wand." His wand hit his palm an instant later and he closed his eyes, the nonverbal spell he cast taking effect an instant later, leaving them both disrobed.

A smirk curled up the corners of his lips as he lowered his wand to place it on the floor within reach. He spoke not a word as he stared at her, her full body exposed to him for the first time in months. His silence was broken in the next heartbeat however as he let his fingers slide over her hip to hook behind her knee. "You will never again wear those hideous muggle clothes that hide your figure, Sara, not when you're with me."

Her eyes widened, a giggle erupting from her at the seeming randomness of his words. Her lips parted to say something as he shifted to settle between her thighs. The first sounds died on the heated air as he shook his head, his cock brushing against her entrance as he angled his hips. Greed took hold in the next moment. They had two days. He would take her slowly next time, he told himself, explore her limits, consume her piece by piece. But in that moment, urgency drove him onward as he thrust forward, filling her in one smooth movement.

A gasp escaped her as he let his eyes fall closed, listening as his deepest desires were, in that moment, fulfilled. His. She was his. Wholly and unconditionally. Severus's heart hammered in his chest as the intimacy of the moment threatened to shatter the last vestiges of his control. His eyes opened, capturing her own, refusing to let go as he murmured the words. "Look at me, that's it. Look at me, Sara."

He knew as her eyes met his, in that moment, he possessed her fully. It was an act that spoke to him on the most base, erotic level. His length jerked inside her, the silken walls that clung to him slick and warm as her body welcomed him, as though she'd been made for him and him alone.

Sara's whimper touched the air as he withdrew from her agonizingly slow. One hand braced on the carpet beneath her as the other clenched onto her thigh with bruising force. In that moment he _wanted _to bruise her, to mark her, so that anyone who caught a glimpse of her would know unequivocally, that she was his.

The knowledge hit him in the gut. She would bear his bruises gladly, she'd said so herself. That willingness, that submission, it touched something inside him, and for the first time, he let go of the tenuous thread of control and drove himself back inside her warmth. Severus held her gaze, as he began to take her in earnest. His heart went into overdrive as the bond that had been so tenuous for so long blossomed fully, snapping and flaring to life.

The sensations that rolled through his body intensified, pleasure uncurling at the base of his spine as he gripped her thigh as hard as he was capable of, the pervasive need that spurred him onward mounting. He saw the first flash of genuine pain in her eyes a his hips slammed against her with nothing shy of sheer brutality. To his astonishment, her body shuddered, her walls tightening around him, as hot need streaked over his awareness, her need.

Severus didn't try to stop the snarl that rose from his throat as he slid his hand beneath her rear, lifting her bodily from the ground, her hips angled to accept his length more deeply inside her. Still her eyes did not close, not even when the hand he steadied himself with moved, gathering her wrists together and pinning them above her head. The first gasping cries of her pleasure bolted through him as he fully understood... she would know pleasure only at his hands, only at his own leisure.

The darkness inside him began to edge in and still he never released her gaze as he felt her body grasping, begging without words, her muscles clenching around him. Sara's gaze pleaded with him and he found himself driven onward, hearing the words before he was able to stop himself. "This is what you wanted. The pain, Sara. You may not have your release. My whim, my will." Her muscles clenched around him, her slender form straining for some unreachable peak.

When she released a sharp cry of frustration, a dark chuckle bubbled up from him. Never had he felt such an incredible freedom. Her submission to him awakened something within him. His fingers gripped her wrists, the delicate bones beneath sinew and flesh held and cradled in a mockery of a lovers embrace, his grasp on them tightening.

Her words were gasping cries as they rang in his ears. "Yes. It's what I.. I want. You, only you. Only yours."

Severus bowed his head, all too aware that her body was quickly reaching its breaking point. If he squeezed just a tiny bit more, the bones in his grasp, twined into his fingers would break. And he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she would let it happen. His eyes slammed closed, his grip on her hands loosening as he murmured the words. "With me, Sara."

His hips battered into hers once more, his lips taking her own as the final piece of the puzzle that had been missing for so long fell into place. The force of his release blindsided him, her body tensing beneath his spasmodically as she was finally given what had been so hard won. Severus held himself inside her, his hips moving against hers reflexively as he spilled his seed inside her.

In that moment his world was right. There was no Voldemort, no Potter, no Dumbledore. There was only he and she. His eyes slammed closed as his fingers slipped from where they had held her wrists in an iron grip, twining her fingers into his own. He found himself not pulling away, as he had their previous encounters. This time, the sating of his hunger only roused more need to have her close. His lips gentled on hers as he released her hands, rolling to his side and gathering her into his arms clumsily. His ears burned as the knowledge of what he was doing set in. Never had he kept a woman close after sex. They were sent away with a curt word, thanked politely and perhaps given a tip if they were of a particularly durable sort.

Years ago, a lifetime ago it had simply been a fact of his life. After their vows, the bonding, he had not taken another woman, he was a loyal man, for all his faults and his bonding and marriage vows he took seriously. But within the past minutes, however long had passed, he didn't know, something had shifted drastically.

Severus released her lips, his fingers closing around his wand reflexively, not even having noticed he'd found it along the floor where he'd left it. He found Sara staring at him. Her expression was unreadable for a moment before she boldly tipped her head upward, a small kiss brushed over his lips, laughably chaste given what they'd just done. Her words were barely audible, even to his own ears. "If you send me away again, in a fit of lunacy like last time, I'll kick you in the balls, Severus Snape."


	20. Chapter 20

A/N- Final bridge chapter - Part two will begin following this. Still projected finish at 60-80,000 words total. Thank you again for all the reviews. Time to shake it up a little.

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Twenty

* * *

She made her way toward Dumbledore's office, her steps quiet on the bare floor. Severus was sleeping, or at least he had been when she'd left him an hour before in his chambers and then promptly gotten lost. Finally, after a bit of a chat with a ghost who was curiously, damn near headless, she found herself standing just in front of the door to the headmaster's office. It was pulled open and she found herself face to face with a beaming Albus Dumbledore.

"Sara! So good of you to be here." He patted her hand lightly before gesturing to the chair across from his desk. To her surprise he seated himself in its mate, rather than the massive affair behind his desk. "Thank you for coming. Dare I ask what you told Severus about our little meeting?"

Amusement twinkled in faded blue eyes as Sara offered him a broad smile, lowering into the chair he'd indicated. "Not a thing, Sir. He's sleeping. We were up late last night."

The Headmaster studied her for a moment before a knowing smile lit his eyes. "Playing exploding snap, no doubt. He was never very good at that game. No wonder he's still sleeping and it's already past dawn."

Sara cleared her throat as she folded her hands in her lap. "You got it."

The Headmaster lifted a hand, his wand flicking to the low table between the chairs they occupied, a tea service laden with a plate of toast and chocolates nestled by the steaming pot appearing on its top. The teapot rose on its own and began to pour, as Dumbledore sat further back in the chair, lowering his want to rest it on the table beside the tea set. "I know you're wondering why I asked you to meet with me."

Sara lowered her gaze to flick her eyes toward the spoon that hovered in mid air over her teacup. She gestured to the sugar and held up one finger, only to watch the spoon fly to the sugar bowl, smoothly lifting a sugar cube and lowering it gently into the tea. Polite enchanted spoons. Just another day at Hogwarts, she would guess. She accept the teacup and saucer as it levitated into her grasp, her gaze shifting toward Dumbledore. "You did tell me you'd call in that favor someday. And whatever I can do, you know I will. You saved my life, Professor. And what's more, you gave me a great gift. I can't repay you for that, but if there is something I can do to be of help to you in some small measure… "

Dumbledore's smile returned as he lifted his own teacup and took a sip of the steaming brew. "You are right. I couldn't put this in a letter, things in Britain are not safe right now." Sara watched him as he toyed with the cup, spinning it in the saucer. "I must ask this favor of you now, my dear, and I do not do it lightly."

Her eyes flicked back to his face, blue meeting blue in a curious battle of the wills. Dumbledore continued more gently. "I have had to ask something of Severus, something which I cannot divulge and for reasons, I am not at liberty to disclose. But there will come a time, in the near future, Sara, when he will need you."

Sara's brow furrowed as she took a sip of her tea, once more, lowering it the saucer once more and lowering that the balance on her knees. "Anything he needs, Albus, I will do. You should know that by now."

Dumbledore smiled, though this time the expression held a note of sadness mingling with something undefined. "I'm not sure when, but sometime soon, you must make preparations for his arrival at your home. He doesn't know yet where he will go after … what must be done is done. It is crucial you do not tell him any of this. I would not ask you to keep a secret from him were it not of the utmost importance, Sara."

She drew in a breath, the gravity of what he said gripping her. She nodded without hesitation. "That's all you need? A place for him to stay for a while? Headmaster, he's my Kel, wherever I am, he is always welcome."

Albus held a hand up to stop her and she instantly trailed off into silence. "That's not all, Sara. When this happens, you must be prepared. He will not be himself. He is being forced to commit an act that goes against his very nature, and despite what you may think, he is a good man, at his core."

Sara broke into a genuine smile then. "Preaching to the choir, my friend. I'll make the arrangements you ask for. And anything that I can do… beyond that…"

The Headmaster merely directed his gaze at her, curiosity shining in his eyes. "When Mrs. Potts sent you to me for help, Sara, you were 23 years old, and you had barely opened your eyes to the world. Some would think it cruel of me to place you with Severus. He can be cold, distant. But your warmth, Sara, your light… what you are is as much a factor of his redemption as his own willingness to learn to move on."

She shifted in her seat, acutely uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. The teacup in her hand was deposited on the table on with a soft thunk. "Headmaster. You seem to misunderstand. Severus does not want your pity, and neither do I." She lifted her eyes to him boldly, though her voice remained respectful. "We fit together quite well, even if we are not perfect. But I don't believe anyone in this world is a perfect fit with another person. The function of a Kelsalis, my function, is something I don't think you understand completely."

Albus smiled once more, that same enigmatic smile that she remembered and it still infuriated her now as much as it had in the past. She gritted her teeth. Dumbledore spoke as gently as he ever did. "The primary function of a Kelsalis, when she is smart enough to use her power, is that of healing, Sara."

Sara shook her head abruptly. "I'm no healer. I couldn't even heal Severus after he was tortured by that crazy loon of a man you guys are all so scared of." She rose from her chair, more disturbed by the fact the man seemed to know more about what she was, what she'd inherited from her mother, than even she did. Steady steps carried her on a circuitous path around his office. "Headmaster, I spend half of my time in a classroom explaining to students the endless lists of ways to identify how muggles manage get themselves killed. I spend the other time alone in a room with dead bodies slicing them open to find out they managed to die. I was the only person in my class in med school to manage to weasel my through without having to tend to living patients and I only managed that because I slipped a charmed bic pen into hand of the head of my department when he was doing the scheduling."

She leaned against his desk, peering at him, her confusion obvious. "I'm nothing special, Professor. I'm a glorified throwback to a time when women were something else. I'm abnormal, and I'm weak. Severus doesn't need saving. He doesn't need redeeming. Don't you see? What Severus needs, is to be respected for who he is now, for being the man he's become, faults and all. And that is exactly what I'm going to do." She squared her shoulders as she regarded the older man, her voice softening. "Telling me that I'm some kind of mystical healer who can fix a lifetime of wounds… it's cruel and it's unfair to Severus, it's tantamount to saying he's not good enough and so you've given me to him to 'fix' what's wrong with him. I'll do whatever you ask of me, Professor, but I won't try to change him. Ever."

He calmly took another sip of his tea. "You will understand, Sara, when the time comes, what it is that you have to do. Remember, you are the sheath to his steel. Never doubt that when the time is near, you will know what you must do."

Sara pushed a hand through her hair as she pushed herself upright and turned for the door, her voice flat. "I'll make the arrangements you ask for. But you can't ask the impossible of me. Healing Severus … was not part of the bargain and I'm not capable of it. I'm going now, Professor. Merry Christmas."

Dumbledore remained silent as she slipped out the door and toward the stairs, her mind spinning. Heal Severus. What a load of bullshit. He wasn't broken. Severus wasn't broken. He was the strongest person she'd ever met in her life. Dumbledore must be losing his touch in his old age, because there was no possible way that Severus needed her. It was the other way around. She need him. She craved him, as she craved air. Though her body ached with the evidence of the long night in which he'd fulfilled the dark promises he'd made, the bruises that were painted over her skin were worn as badges of honor, they were proof that he wanted her, at least in some small measure.

She fumbled her way blindly back to the dungeons, only getting lost twice on the way, a vast improvement. And hours later, Dumbledore's words still rang in her ears, she sat against the arm of the couch, her feet stretched out and propped on Severus's lap. He was absorbed in whatever he was reading, Sara herself was glaring at the book she'd long since abandoned even the pretense of reading. Frankly it was astonishing that she even had managed to keep quiet that long. Without thinking, she drew her feet back, in preparation to rise. Severus's grip landed on her ankle, holding her legs in place, not even looking up from his page as he spoke. "I require your presence. Your _quiet_ presence."

Her cheeks reddened as she shifted her eyes to his face. It was half-obscured by the inky black strands that fell forward. Her fingers itched to touch it. "I don't want to go home tomorrow, Severus." She spoke softly, the admission coming without conscious decision to speak the words.

He lifted his head then. Severus's expression was guarded and for a moment she wondered if she was getting better at reading him, or if he was simply growing more open. His fingers skimmed up her bare shin idly. Slowly he closed the book he held and set it aside. He moved with a quickness that she hadn't expected, given the sheer size of his much larger frame. He stretched out over her, his hands slipping to hook behind her knees as he settled between her thighs. Her eyes dropped to half-lidded slits, responding instantly to his touch, a soft gasp emitting from her. He stared down at her as his fingers swept up the line of her side, not stopping until his hand rested at the base of her throat lightly.

Severus's eyes lingered on her lips for a moment before his own brushed hers lightly. A shudder ripped down her spine as he murmured the words against her lips gently, his voice holding that familiar note that she'd come to know so well over the past twenty four hours. "I told you, Sara. I require your quiet… presence."

As he claimed her lips in earnest, his hand tightened at her throat and she found herself incapable of making more than the softest gasps. As the haze of pleasure descended on her, the worries and cares that he conversation with Dumbledore had evoked faded, dissolving like a mist over water when hit by the first rays of sun.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N- Part Two begins! Enjoy!

Acronyms for tired people - DPD = Durham Police Department, Diener = A morgue assistant who specializes is responsible for the transportation of the deceased, among other things, ME= Medical Examiner.

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Twenty-one

* * *

Sara released the Portkey she held with a sigh, the nausea that accompanied the travel fading. She lowered the battered sneaker to the floor as she made her way toward the stairs, mounting them slowly. Gone five minutes, and already it felt as if a piece of her was missing. Anxiety clenched in her gut as she tossed her suitcase on the bed and unzipped it, flipping it open.

His response to her plea to stay had been met with fervent kisses, an edge of desperation to the way he took her then, clinging to her as if he were losing something in her going. It had to be a flight of fancy, she had to have imagined that she'd felt the gentle presence of his mind probing hers, three words whispered in the back of her mind. It had been her imagination, her tired brain working overtime.

Work. She needed to focus on work, something else besides him. Her resolve crumbled a moment later at the sight of the black leather book tucked neatly on top of her clothing. She had left her journal on his bedside table. How had it gotten back into her bag?

She flipped the book open, the first page bearing the spidery, precise handwriting that made her heart lurch in her chest. The words however, were not the ones she had expected to see.

_It would be quite unfair of me to ask something of you that I am unwilling to do myself. As I want to know you, I also want you to know me. What you will read here will not be pleasant, Sara. You may not even wish to continue our correspondence once you are finished. If that is the case, please rest assured I will not be angry with you. _

Apprehension filled her as she sank onto the bed, her gaze lowering to scan the page. Downstairs, Roger cooed. She ignored it and toed off her boots, continuing to read in silence, the ball in the pit of her stomach growing.

_I am not a nice person. My mother used to tell me I inherited my father's nose, temper and personality, and her intelligence and aptitude for magic. My father was a man even crueler than I am. I have no memories of my parents going a day without some kind of shouting. _

The handwriting faltered on the page and in that moment, Sara knew how hard it had to have been for him to write those words. It made sense though. The rules he'd thrust on her now made complete sense. Guilt filtered through her. She'd been so angry with him for so long, thinking those five rules were arbitrary, too keep his position of dominance. Perhaps, just perhaps, they were protect both of them from what he thought himself capable of becoming.

Sara lowered the book, sickened by her own selfishness in that moment. No wonder he had never intended to take a wife, or a mate, of any kind, something he had told her on more than one occasion. It was no wonder at all if that was the only example he had. Sara buried her face in her hands for a moment before lifting the book to start reading once more. What else had she so drastically misjudged him on?

_My father hated magic. I never found out exactly why he resented my mother so much, resented her magic, the only part of her that held a spark of pleasure. Freedom only came at Hogwarts, and I did well in school, at least in my marks. I excelled at most things, but my particular passion was the Dark Arts. It has always been the more obscure things of this world which fascinate me., rare things, unexplained things, mysteries to be unraveled. Perhaps that is what possessed me to do as the Headmaster asked when he asked to see me that day, and presented me with you. _

_Merlin, but you were a pitiful sight, Sara. I wish you could have seen yourself through my eyes. Standing there like a lost child, looking so much younger than your years, wide eyed and innocent. You were everything I was too tainted to touch. And yet, like a fool, Dumbledore only had to speak the words in the right way and before I knew it, I had a wife, a Kelsalis no less. _

_I dealt with you harshly, and I still deal with you harshly, and I am not inclined to change that. I suppose though, that now I must acknowledge that you have done a tolerable job of bearing that harshness. I see that spark in your eyes when you want nothing more than to slap me for something I've said, and I am loathe to admit it, but occasionally I have found myself pushing the lines and being more cruel than I intended simply to see your eyes flare to life. Normally, there is a dullness in your eyes, as if you live in a mad world where you put yourself inside a box, tape the lid shut and put it away until it's time to go back to your real life. _

How the hell had he seen that? Sara stared at the wall opposite her, only dimly aware of the sting of tears at her eyes. Apparently, Severus Snape was not nearly as clueless as he pretended to be. She drew in a breath and turned the page, reading on.

_I am your real life, Sara. Fucked up and twisted, secretive and flawed. When you look at me, with those eyes that are a dull as dirty glass, I want to take you by the shoulders and shake you until you understand that your life is just beginning and that mourning the past and whatever lies there will only lead to regret. Trust me, Sara, I learned this lesson the hard way. Regrets eat at your soul, until whatever part remains is nothing but an empty shell. You are too young to be me, Kelsalis. Do not make my mistakes. The next time you have a retort or a sharp remark on the tip of your tongue, let it fly. I may meet you toe to toe, I may order you to silence, but I will not let you lie to me anymore about who you are. I will know all of you, every hair on your head, ever mark and every scar on your body and on your soul. _

Sara lowered the book, snapping it closed, the words written there leaving her stunned. She swallowed hard as she pushed herself up from the bed and padded into the bathroom, abandoning the journal on her bedside table. Roger arrived in her bedroom in a flurry of feathers and landed on her shoulder, nipping expectantly at her ear. She sighed as she leaned to turn on the hot water to fill the tub, her brain firmly in overload. The balding owl clutched onto her shoulder as she straightened and cut her eyes up to him. "Nice to see you too, buddy."

Roger took off once more, hop-jumping to perch on the radiator, watching like a pervy peeping tom as she undressed and stood in front of the mirror. Bruises criss-crossed usually pale flesh, marring porcelain skin. His handprints on her rear, bite marks on her breasts, and thin lines where he'd gotten particularly creative with a hair tie when he'd caught her attempting to pull her hair back without asking first. They did not disturb her though, as they might other people. Sara stared at them now, her fingers tracing the bruises on her wrists where he'd held her down two nights ago. The marks were proof that she was his, she savored them, what they meant. She stepped away from the mirror, into the tub and sank into the bathwater, her eyes falling closed as she clung for a few precious minutes to the memory of his face, his scent, his touch.

She didn't know if it was minutes or hours, but when her phone rang and jerked her from her reverie, the water was cold. She shivered lightly as she made a mad scramble for a towel and for the phone as well. With a sinking heart, she glanced at the text message. 2 GSW DOA, 915 Burch. ASAP. She knew the meaning all too well, and she reached for her wand without thinking, lowering it a moment later. No magic. It still stood, despite a near argument. No Severus nearby meant no magic. She hastily sent a reply to the text and tossed her hair into a pun before pulling on the plain jeans and sweatshirt she favored for her messier cases.

Even before she made it to the door grabbing her keys, she had already managed to shut down worst of the thoughts that plagued her. Fifteen minutes later she was pulling up in just down the street from the address she'd been directed to. She pulled her ball cap lower over her eyes despite the darkness shielding her face from those who might see her grim expression and start asking the wrong questions. This was the part of her job that she hated.

She saw the bodies the second she mounted the steps. Through the throng of police and detectives and other personnel, she caught sight of the victims of the shooting. A young man, perhaps in his late teens, sprawled half in and half out a doorway, and beneath him, still tucked into his arms, a small child lay staring unseeing up toward the ceiling.

Sara's stomach rolled and this time it was not from the lingering effects of Portkey travel. In another time and place, she could have been safely in his arms, away from this. On her table, bodies were just that. But in this setting, away from the sterility and clinical autopsy room, they were real people.

The detachment threatened to crumble in that moment as her boss appeared in the doorway. Dr. Hank Morgan was an expert in his field and the man directly responsible for giving her the job that had allowed her to move from mere intern to full medical examiner. In his late fifties, he was still a handsome man, his blonde hair and red cheeks making him appear the victim of a constant sunburn. He was barely taller than her, clearing her own five foot even with only an inch or two to spare, and was almost as wide as he was tall. His hands rested on his belly, a curious habit that she'd long ago stopped teasing him about. He stared at her for a long moment in silence, giving a somber nod. "Jordan is on his way with the van. DPD is done here."

Her eyes flicked back to the too-still form of the child in the young man's arms, half-shielded beneath his body. Beside her, Hank rested a hand on her shoulder. "Will you be all right with this one, Sara?"

She tore her eyes from the scene before her, slipping her backpack from her shoulder to rummage in it for a pair of gloves, drawing in a deep breath and putting her game face on. She knew that he was watching her. It wasn't her first crime scene and God knew it wouldn't be her last. "Fine. I'll take care of things and have the preliminary report ready for you by morning." She dropped her backpack to the ground and drew on her gloves as the sounds of the van backfiring down the street drew Hank's attention from her.

Sara glanced over her shoulder at the van, wrinkling her nose. "We really need a new one, Hank. The DPD can afford to pay outside MEs but won't keep the van running. They really have their priorities all screwed up."

Hank lifted one round shoulder in a half-shrug. "I am inclined to agree, Doll. Now, I'm going home and going back to bed. Good night." With that he gave a smart little salute before turning to meander down the front steps of the porch. Sara returned her attention to the scene before her and reached for her backpack to pull out the clipboard that had the forms at the ready, rummaging for a bic pen and uncapping it as she crouched and set to work taking the copious amounts of notes that were required before she could legally allow the Diener to transport the bodies.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N- This chapter was completed last night, but I didn't post it straight away due to a plot twist that cropped up of its own accord. I swear I didn't plan this, but after having someone read it for me and giving a stamp of approval, I've decided to take the chance and go on ahead and post it. It's one of my longer chapters. Thischapter contains cursing and violent furniture.

I have a ton of school work to finish today so don't expect another update until Tuesday, perhaps Wednesday. I know I usually spoil you guys with daily updates, but this chapter will just have to do until I'm caught up in RL. Enjoy, and as always reviews make me happy!

Infecundus – Latin - Sterile

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Twenty-two

* * *

Valentine's Day was nothing more than a machination of retailers to exploit the poor sods who were desperate for a bit of romance in their lives. Severus despised both those foolish enough to engage in the pathetic excuse for a holiday and those whose eyes were so full of stars that they didn't even question the necessity or wisdom of how to obtain recently murdered flowers and mediocre chocolate for their doxy of the week. So why, in Merlin's name, WHY did he now find himself standing in the middle of Diagon Alley clutching a parcel containing crappy chocolates and staring at a florist shop pensively.

His right eye twitched ever so slightly as he edged around a gaggle of giggling girls and made his way toward slowly down the alley, peering into the shops. Obsidian eyes drifted to the jeweler across the way and he shook his head a bit. Sara wasn't the kind to wear much jewelry. Snape pushed his hair from his eyes as the rain began to fall, thunder rumbling ominously overhead. He tucked his head down and continued in his walk. Within seconds it was coming down hard and he darted into the nearest shop to avoid the downpour that had come from nowhere.

The bell on the door sounded as he pushed the door closed behind him. Snape found himself inside a narrow room, the tall shop windows casting an eerie gray light over the entire place. It was filled floor to ceiling with furniture in various stages of disrepair that teetered dangerously, most likely held up only by magic and sheer force of luck. Where there was not furniture, there were crates, stacked just as high. Severus stepped forward, his gaze flicking over the dusty relics of bygone ages. A little round, bespectacled man bustled down the winding staircase that he'd almost not seen. His red cheeks gave the appearance of having been locked out on a cold day too long.

"Ah! Welcome to Morgan and Stern. I'm Howard Morgan, proprietor! Beastly day, isn't it?" He was far too cheerful as he gestured toward the rain that beat against the window. Snape eyed him suspiciously as he stood in the entryway dripping. The man waddled closer his hands patting his belly as if it were a living thing. "Just come in from out of the rain, have you? Make yourself comfortable, have a look around. But make sure not to touch anything that doesn't have the green card."

Snape's eyebrow went into overtime, twitching so hard than he lifted a hand to massage the bridge of his nose. He offered the man a tight smile. "Green card. Right. Out of curiosity, what happens if I touch something without a green card?"

The man chortled. "Most haven't got the sense to ask! You see, we specialize in antiques which carry certain charms on them. Beds that let you control your dreams, err… dining tables that aid in digestion, that sort of thing." Howard Morgan was either a genius or a total nutter and at the moment, Snape couldn't really tell which. He stared drolly at the man as he waited. Sure enough, the portly proprietor turned to wedge himself down one of the aisles, gesturing for Severus to follow. Snape glanced back out the window to gauge his chances of escape. Great, now it was hailing. He sighed and forced a tight lipped smile, making his way in a sweep of black robes down the aisle, dodging a wardrobe that fling a door open and attempted to clothesline him and ducking as a chandelier, of its own accord, swing one heavy brass arm at his forehead.

Morgan gestured widely with his left hand, not even looking back as Severus grunted when a black armchair tripped him, nearly sending him hurtling to the ground. "Careful, this is the red tag aisle, Son."

Snape righted himself, glowering toward the chair only to be given a kick to the shin for his effort. He sidled past it, glancing over his shoulder as he narrowly avoided a bookshelf that hurled a volume of _The History of Magic_ at his head. He smoothly caught the book and shook a finger at the bookshelf as he continued on down the aisle. "Pray tell, Mr. Morgan, what is a red tag for?"

A billiard ball zinged past his right ear only to rebound off a dartboard at the back of the room and bounce harmlessly to the floor. Morgan crossed over the aisle and gestured him to follow as they came to the back of the shop. "Red tags are cursed items that I either haven't had the time or ability to find the countercurses for yet. Ahh, here we are."

Snape found himself standing before a cradle. His brow drew tight as he stared at it, his head canting lightly. Unbidden, one hand moved, resting on the intricately carved panel at the top as he crouched beside it. His vision swam for a moment and when it came sharply into focus once more, he saw something unsettling. A child, no more than a month or two old lay peacefully inside, cooing happily as it tried to shove its fist into its mouth. A shock of thick black hair stuck out in every direction, and it gave a shriek of joy at the sight of him. Severus simply stared at the child for a moment, studying it. Piercing blue eyes, as clear and pale as ice stared right back at him. Tiny lips formed a perfect pink gummy grin as the little fist popped out of its mouth, but when he noticed the child's nose, he gasped. It was small, barely discernible from head on. A perfect, petite replica of his own hooked nose. Severus released his grip on the cradle, shooting to his feet as he blinked. In that instant, the child he had seen as clear as day was gone.

Beside him the proprietor merely smiled. "Charmed that one is, lad." He nodded proudly as his smile disappeared as he noticed the dark expression on Snape's face. "Why, what did you see?"

Severus remained still, his mind sorting through the odd vision. Wishful thinking. That's all it had been. "Nothing. Only a baby. I suppose that's the charm somehow, right?" He breathed out the words, unable to shake the little face he'd seen.

The man shook his head slowly. "No, Son. The charm is to connect a magical parent to the infant. You see, when the parent touches the cradle, it's imbued with their essence, rather a bit of a magical fingerprint. The charm uses that bond to soothe the baby. The parent in turn, when they touch the cradle, has the effect of an empathic bond, of sorts, with the child for as long as contact is maintained."

Severus frowned toward the cradle once more. "I don't have children."

The proprietor chuckled, his expression lightning once more. "That's impossible. The cradle only works with a parent or a child. If the child inside were not yours, say, you were minding the neighbor's baby for a few hours… the bond doesn't work. The charm was extremely specific. So, either you have a bastard somewhere you don't know about… or…" The man trailed off into silence.

Snape stared at the man for a moment as his fogged brain continued the man's train of thought to unspoken conclusions. His eyes lowered to the cradle once more, his heart slowing as his vision swam once more. This time, it was simply pure disbelief. He heard his own voice speaking the words, words he didn't authorize his brain to come up with. "How much?"

* * *

Sara batted at Roger as she unlocked the front door. "All right, all right, out with you, silly bird. Go, hunt, gather and fetch." She held the door open wide, calling after the owl as it flew off for the woods behind the house. "And you better not bring any mice into the house this time or I swear I'm locking you in your cage for a month, you mangy beast!" The only response she received was a trill captured on the wind as she closed the door behind her. She knew something was different the instant she turned to peer around herself. Her fingers flexed as she dropped her backpack to the floor, reaching for the shotgun that leaned by the front door, always loaded.

She disengaged the safety as she lifted it, holding it at the ready, listening in silence to the house. The clock ticked in the living room, empty. The dining room was equally as empty. She skirted around the stairs, making her way to the back hall and turning toward the door that led to the kitchen. The dark clad figure stood at her kitchen sink, staring out the window, cast in shadow. She stepped into the kitchen, her voice shaking as she tried to inject strength in it. "I don't know how you got in here, but you have about 3 seconds to turn around with your hands up before I put a double barrel of buckshot straight into your backside, and believe me, I will _not_ miss."

The figure spoke the word softly, the voice filtering over her, soothing her fear instantly. "Lumos."

The tip of Severus's wand lit the kitchen and Sara dropped the barrel of the shotgun, engaging the safety once more. "For fuck's sake, Severus, I damn near just shot you." She propped the shotgun against the door frame and reached to flick on the light switch. "Why the hell are you standing in my kitchen in the goddamn dark?"

He lowered his wand, the word breathed out as he stared at her, his expression unreadable. "Nox." The wand's glow instantly ceased as he took a step forward. "I couldn't find the light switch and that bloody owl of yours is worse than an attack dog, it went for my hand anytime I moved."

Sara scowled toward Roger's empty perch next to the back door. "Well he does get testy if he's left inside all day. He probably just wanted out if the mood he was in when he greeted me is any indication." She stared toward him, then to her kitchen, as if trying to place what was out of place. He was dressed as if he had come straight from his classes, still clad in his teaching robes, black head to toe. She realized then just what was out of place. "Severus, did Dumbledore send you or is this a personal visit?"

He frowned right back at her. "It's the 14th of February. I took a personal day. Unfortunately, I've been waiting here for several hours."

She relaxed marginally surging forward to throw her arms around his neck. Whatever terrible thing Dumbledore had predicted to happen hadn't yet. Relief filtered through her as she rose to her toe, her lips pressing kisses to his face, showering him with them before burying her face in his neck. "Thank God. I was worried for a moment there. It's good to see you. I don't care how or why you're here, but damn, I've missed you."

His arms dangled by his sides for a moment before slipping around her waist in an awkward, tentative embrace. "Do you always curse this much when you're in America?"

Sara forced a laugh as she drew back, her hands moving to cup his cheek lightly. "How long can you stay?"

Severus's eyes clouded for a moment before his expression was once again his usual mask of infuriating neutrality. "If you had been home four hours ago, it would have been longer. But now, my Portkey activates at midnight. Midnight my time."

Sara glanced to the clock on the stove, the time mocking her, blinking at her as she shook her head. A quarter after six. She groaned, burying her face in his chest. "Forty five minutes. That's not nearly enough time. I'm sorry, my Kel. I'm so sorry. I got caught at work. There was a four car pile-up on the interstate and I got stuck because of it. If I'd known…"

His voice was gentle as he released her, taking a step back. "You still would have not neglected your work. I don't have much time, but there is something I need to ask you."

Apprehension unfurled within her belly as she regarded him, not liking the physical distance he seemed to need to place between them. It was as though he were bracing himself. His voice was utterly calm, too calm, his words going right over her head. "When you came at Christmas, I forgot to give you the Infecundus potion, Sara."

She labored over the Latin root of the word and came up with nothing. Her blank stare had to be the giveaway before he folded his hands before himself as he clarified. "It's the contraceptive potion I gave you the first time, last summer. The effect last for about a month, but this time, I forgot."

Sara relaxed as she shook her head. "That? You came all the way from Scotland to tell me you forgot the magical condom?"

His face reddened as Sara lifted a hand. "It's all right."

Her Kel's expression shifted once more, this time almost looking pained as he spoke slowly, disbelief tinging his voice. "You made it quite obvious during your contract negotiations and I watched Dumbledore write it into the contract myself before our bonding, that you wished to wait to heave children."

It was Sara's turn to speak slowly. "First off, we got rid of the contract. And secondly, the days of it being a man's responsibility for a woman's reproductive health and decisions ended about a four or five decades ago. I'm on the pill. So don't worry, you're off the hook."

He stared at her for a moment before his posture shifted and he began to pace. "No, you're missing what I'm saying. It's too late for that."

"Too late for what? I promise, I'm very prompt. Same time every day, with my coffee at six am precisely. I wouldn't do something as stupid as getting pregnant without discussing it with you first and I know you may not want children with me, given my history of barely being able to keep so much as a hamster alive for more than a week, and let's face it, babies _are _adorable, but you don't much like kids, so I'm not going to trap you into being a father just because you are human and forget about what potions needs to be accioed from your bathroom cabinet when you get horny." She beamed at him, certain she'd solved whatever problem he was obviously having.

He shook his head and dragged a hand through his hair as he lengthened his pacing into the dining room. "I know damn well what the muggle birth control pill is, Sara. Will you please be quiet, for just five minutes, Kelsalis? Please?"

Her smile faded as she lifted a hand to gesture for him to continue. He folded his arms over his chest and spun, making two more laps around the room before coming to stop before her. "Sara, muggle contraceptives are faulty at best when paired with a witch's unique … genetic structure."

She shifted in place, the beginnings of a frown tugging at her brows. She opened her mouth to speak only to be silenced by a dark glare. Severus continued, pacing more slowly now, speaking in an almost clinical way. "Researchers have yet to find out exactly why it happens, but it does happen. Muggle contraceptive are next to useless for us. Unless of course you count physical barriers such as…"

Here she did interrupt. "Severus, I know how a condom works. But your forty five minutes are ticking and I'd like to at least get a decent makeout session out of your very welcome, but very unexpected visit, so if we could wrap this lecture up and get to the point?"

Sara was rewarded with a scathing glare that would once have sent a chill down her spine. He spun to face her, enunciating the words quietly. "Are you late?"

Her face instantly flushed red as she shook her head. "I don't … think so. I mean, I've never been what you'd call… regular, and I can't believe you're asking me to discuss my period with you."

He shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous, Sara. Menstruation is a perfectly natural function of the human body. I'm well aware that even you have that one blissful time every month where you will become a raving lunatic for a time. Did you really think I didn't notice those few days of every month when you refused to come out of your room save to shower or eat?"

Her face turned even brighter as she averted her gaze. "We aren't really having this conversation. I'll wake up at my desk and find that Jordan spiked my coffee with five hour energy again and this is all just the product of a crashing system."

Severus snorted. "Who is Jordan and why would be spiking your coffee with… bolts of energy?" The confusion really was adorable but he shook his head before she could answer. "Nevermind. My point, if you'll _please_ stop interrupting me, is that there is a possibility, however slim, that my oversight might have had the expected result. So Sara, this is very important…" He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers cautiously. "Are you late?"

Sara stared at him, her frown returning, all humor draining from her as she searched his expression for any sign of anger. She turned toward the drawer that held her medications, tugging it open to extract the pill bottles, lining them up neatly on the counter before the little pocket calendar could be reached. He glanced toward the bottles, but said nothing as she flipped the calendar open and handed it to him. "I'm not late, see? I got my period on the 13th of last month."

Severus cocked a brow and took a step closer, clearing his throat as one hand snaked out, his finger pointing to the top of the calendar. December was clearly marked. "That was over two months ago."

Sara's eyes widened, whispering the words as the pieces fell into place. "Fuck. It's… but I haven't been sick." She gripped the little calendar like a lifeline as the red circled date mocked her. "I haven't been sick, Severus!"

He stared at her for a moment, one arm wrapping around her waist as he tugged her close. "The Portkey activates in half an hour. Go and change into something warm. You're coming with me."

She knew better than to argue. Her eyes slammed closed as she buried her face in his chest. "Fuck."

His voice was oddly gently, his other than lifting to cup the back of her head for a moment. "I'm sorry, Sara. I didn't mean to do this to you."

The regret in his voice caught her off guard and she took a step back, flinging herself out of the circle of his arms. "No. Don't. Severus, just don't." She turned to go, her eyes stinging with tears she refused to let him see. "Don't apologize to me. I'm the one who did this to you. I should have paid more attention, I should have reminded you. I mean, I knew you didn't want children from the start, but I thought I'd taken care of it and now…" She turned on heel and held up a hand as she shook her head, unable to face him. "Just… give me a few minutes."

He spoke quietly, his voice as calm as ever, even as her own terror took hold. When had she ever screwed up this monumentally. "I'm coming upstairs in twenty minutes. Do not lock your bedroom door."


	23. Chapter 23

A/N – The positive response to the plot twist makes me a happy Snow. In generally, Monday and Tuesday are my two really busy RL days, hence you guys getting more updates in the later part of the week. To answer a few questions that have been tossed my way.

Yes, I'm writing this as "live" as writing can get. The plot outline exists, but the story itself is being posted as it is being written.

No, I have not yet decided if the canon of Snape's death will be adhered to. To me, that's the beauty of writing. But however I handle it, I promise… Severus will be done as much justice as I am capable of doing.

And thus, on with tonight's update.

Kisses,

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Twenty Three

* * *

He moved down the hallway, his footsteps heavier than usual, yet the purposeful stride hadn't changed. Sara lagged behind him, barely able to keep up. They reached the hospital wing within minutes, yet the walk seemed to take hours, each step of the way stretching into eternity. Severus stepped aside, gesturing for Sara to precede him. He studied her for a moment, her grim expression mirroring his own. The merest possibility that this could have happened set his world into a tailspin. Even now, the cradle sat in his quarters, covered in a white cloth behind the couch. He had no idea what had possessed him to buy it. He didn't even want children. And yet, there had been something about the sight of his own hooked nose on that tiny face that had captured his attention, and still held it. Torn somewhere between regret and terror, Severus Snape was at a loss.

Sara moved past him, not having spoken a word since she'd retreated upstairs to her room. Twenty minutes later, he'd appeared in the doorway to find her having obediently changed into something warmer, though it was regrettable, her horrendous fashion sense. She'd paired her beloved muggle jeans with a jumper that would rival anything one of the Weasleys could have come up with for sheer brilliance. He had realized belatedly, it was most likely a Molly Weasley creation. She had slipped on the knee length black cashmere coat and wordlessly accepted his hand, her other moving to grasp the bowling ball he'd presented her with as a Portkey. One of the more unique one's he'd been given by Dumbledore. At least this time it was not a broken doll that had called him "Mummy" every ten seconds. Finally he'd hurled that one across the hotel room that one time in Paris and broken it, then been forced to take the muggle train all the way back to fucking Scotland .

Poppy Pomfrey appeared in the doorway of her office, her brows knitting together as Severus scowled toward the only other occupant of the room, a frightened first year who's feet had burst out of her shoes after getting hit with a particularly nasty hex during some altercation or other. "Leave." He intoned the word toward the child who glanced nervously between himself and Poppy.

Madam Pomfrey, for her part, clucked her tongue at him chidingly. "Severus Snape, that surly attitude of yours may work in your classroom, but I will remind you this is _my_ hospital wing and you do not give the orders here, young man."

Severus stiffened, his gaze flicking toward Sara who looked more and more pale as the moments went by. He held his ground as he glanced toward the girl once more. "Fine. Your office please, Madam Pomfrey, this is rather a delicate matter."

Curiosity sufficiently roused, her gaze softened as she ushered them into her office and closed the door behind them. Rather than move to the seat she offered, Severus lowered his voice, giving Sara a nudge forward. "My wife requires some tests run. I was hoping you could help."

The mediwitch stared at him for a moment, her eyes narrowing slowly. "I remember her… she's the one from that night last summer at the Weasley's, when you were recovering from the Cruciatus curse, isn't she?"

Beside him, Sara's eyes widened. "You never told me that!" Her eyes nailed him in overt anger. She did not hold her tongue but rather blurted the words out, seeming not to care whose presence they were in. "Is that why you … how did you… who did that to you? That's illegal in the UK, Severus!"

She spoke the words as if the fact it was forbidden should have been enough to stop it. Severus stared at her for a moment wordlessly. In that instant, the sheer ferocity that shown through her weary eyes touched something at his core, and he knew beyond a doubt, he loved this woman to the point of madness. Perhaps because she was a bit mad herself. His lips curled into a light smirk. "We'll discuss it later."

"Damn right we'll discuss it later. You have some serious explaining to do, Severus Snape!" Sara gave him a glare that rivaled his own in intensity and he bit back a chuckle. Suddenly, the prospect of fatherhood didn't seem quite so frightening, not if she protected their child with the same intensity that she now flung her words at him with. "Can we please just get this over with? I have to be at work at four am."

Poppy had remained silent for a moment as she spoke slowly. "I didn't know she was your wife, Severus… when did you get married?"

"Five years this coming July, now can we please get to the test, Poppy?" Fatigue entered his voice, though the stunned expression on the matron's face was rather priceless under any other circumstances.

She recovered quickly and nodded. "Very well… err.. my … belated congratulations, Professor and .. Mrs… Snape. Makes sense now, I suppose. Your line of work and all, Mrs. Snape." She blinked as if trying to wrap her brain around the very words she spoke. "What can I do for you, Severus?"

Snape folded his hands before himself. "Pregnancy test."

Poppy simply blinked once more. He could tell her poor brain was going into overload. He could understand though, five minutes ago, the poor woman hadn't a clue he even had a sex life, let alone expected him to come in dragging a wife, one with a possible fetus on board, at that. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I know there is a spell for it, but my wand is not suited for most advanced medical spellwork."

Madam Pomfrey smoothed down the front of her robes before drawing in a breath and forcing a tight-lipped smile. "Right. Of course. Pregnancy test." She moved toward her desk, rummaging for a moment before lifting the wand that rested there. "Right." She repeated the words as though to fortify herself. "Well, Mrs. Snape… that's going to take some getting used to… anyway, off with your coat, Dear, this won't hurt a bit."

Sara glanced toward him, paling a bit as she unbuttoned her coat and slipped it from her shoulders. Snape reached to take it, and for a moment he thought he saw gratitude in her eyes, or maybe they were simply watering from the sheer vibrancy of her hot pink jumper. Madam Pomfrey shooed him out of the way and he retreated gladly to the opposite side of the office, wedging himself between a bookshelf and the small pot-bellied stove that gave warmth to the tiny room.

Snape watched in silence as the wand ward run over his Kelsalis, Madam Pomfrey muttering to herself, much as a mad artist might mumble to their canvas. He watched in rapt attention as the spell cast over Sara revealed results that he himself was only vaguely familiar with. Not nearly familiar enough to know what the cooing sounds the mediwitch was now making meant. When she lowered the wand, she gave a gentle smile and rested a hand on Sara's shoulder for a moment, leaning to murmur soft words into her ear, too soft for him to overhear. Sara paled for a moment, her grim expression revealing what Madam Pomfrey had just confirmed.

He had expected dread, anger, worry, even outright terror. What he had not expected though, was the sudden warmth that unfurled inside him, settling in his gut, a strange surge of joy bubbling up inside him. They had created life. Never in all his days had he created anything save for potions. Never anything of substance or value. He destroyed. Most everything he touched, he destroyed. Elation filtered through him, an odd sense of purely masculine pride lifting his heart inside his chest. They had created life. Astounding.

Sara appeared however, as if she were about to keel over. His joy was tempered instantly at the look of terror in her eyes, her own anger hitting him like a physical blow. Apparently she found no reason to rejoice over their triumph. Severus sobered instantly, his moment of fleeting happiness ended as quickly as it had begun. Of course she wouldn't be happy. He'd done this to her. His own foolish haste had resulted in this.

Severus shook his head, redirecting his attention to the mediwitch as she prattled on. "Now, you'll want to bring her to me in a month's time. I'll be able to tell you both more, but at this moment, the baby's responses are precisely as would be expected for her size. Rough estimate, Mrs. Snape, you're right at eight and a half weeks in. Severus, I don't tend to keep the potions she needs on hand in the office, but I'll find the recipe you need and get it to you tomorrow." He nodded silently, barely having time to digest the information as she rattled it off. "The key at this point in your pregnancy, Sara, is to make sure that you get plenty of rest and eat well, and most importantly, do not overstrain yourself. The first trimester is always the riskiest."

Snape's head lifted as her words registered. "Poppy, you said 'she'."

Madam Pomfrey gave a nod. "Yes. I did. The diagnostic spell is a finely tuned thing, Professor Snape. But unfortunately, that's the most I know at this point. When she's a bit more along, I can estimate more, check for defects potential problems. But for now, 'she' is the best I can give you with any certainty."

Sara spoke for the first time, her arms folding over her chest once more. Severus watched her silently, waiting to see what she had to say. "Are there any restrictions I need to be aware of as far as my work goes?"

Severus lifted a brow, his own curiosity roused. Why hadn't he thought of that? Poppy gave Sara a gentle smile. "No restrictions aside from common sense. Sex is fine, in fact encouraged. Healthy and safe form of exercise after all. If something makes you tired, rest. If something makes you hurt, stop doing it. Use common sense and you'll be fine. Severus will be able to keep you abreast of what potions or chemicals you should stay away from. Don't lift anything heavier than about twenty or so pounds, just to be on the safe side."

His wife seemed to flush with relief. She relaxed visibly. "So have the Diener move the bodies. Perfect. Jordan will love that." A smirk rose to her face. Severus frowned faintly, confusion creeping in. Had she really just said… bodies?

He made a mental note to ask her about it later. Poppy seemed not to notice anything amiss. "Absolutely no moving the corpses on your own, Mrs. Snape. You'll need to let your Diener take care of that, and if there are any incidents with chemical spills that you need to be involved in, as well, have him handle those too. Keep a special eye out for open wounds and remember common procedures for protection from the usual muggle communicable diseases. I think they call them… universal precautions, standard practice at muggle facilities, yes?"

Poppy had lit up as if speaking to his wife about corpses was a perfectly normal 's more, Sara was nodding her agreement. Dead… bodies? Open wounds? Chemical spills? Severus lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Poppy, thank you for your time, please send that list for me tomorrow. I'll see to the potions at once." He stepped forward, one hand moving to rest lightly at the small of Sara's back. His Kelsalis was almost her normal self again, her expression animated and for that he was grateful, even if the subject matter was deeply disturbing. He knew then, he had to get her back to his quarters. It appeared they had some things to talk about. Namely, what came next about the child. And furthermore… how long had his wife been hauling around dead bodies and not told him about it?


	24. Chapter 24

A/N – So I'm a wee bit cruel to Severus in this chapter. Enjoy!

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Twenty Four

* * *

Her head was spinning. It wasn't until she was seated on one of the black leather couches in Snape's quarters with a plate of sandwiches and a glass of milk brought by a too-cheerful house elf that she was able to find her footing. One hand held a ham sandwich, the other the glass of milk that her Kel had shoved unceremoniously into her hand with a gruff order to drink and eat every single bit of both. He had then disappeared into his bedroom and promptly remained there for the next ten minutes. She stared at the door, willing it to open once more, taking another bite of the sandwich. It tasted like sawdust on her tongue but she forced herself to chew and swallow.

When at last the door open and Severus reappeared, he'd shed his outer robe and cravat. Wordlessly he moved toward her, feet bare, clad only in the black trousers that clung to his frame like a second skin and the white shirt he wore beneath his robes, the cuffs and collar unbuttoned and the shirt itself untucked. Sara stared at him as he sank onto the couch beside her. The words slipped from her lips, unbidden. "I'm so sorry, Severus." She was unable to keep the defeat from her voice.

Obsidian eyes met her own, clearly startled. He spoke gently, almost too gently. "Why are you apologizing? It's my fault."

She started to lay the sandwich down and was reward with a stern glare. Obediently she took another bite, chewing quietly as she tried to sort out the words. When she had swallowed, she finally spoke again. "You've always made it clear you don't like children, Sev."

His eyes narrowed on her for a moment, snapping the words at her without pause. "Don't call me that."

Instantly she cringed. "Sorry. I… I thought…" She trailed off into silence.

He sighed heavily and for the first time, she saw the fatigue he carried in his frame laid bare. "No. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's all right. You just surprised me. No one's called me that in years." His gaze carried a world of pain in it for a moment before he blinked and it was gone as quickly as it had come. "It reminds me of someone. Someone I don't want to be reminded of when I'm with you."

Sara took another bite of the sandwich and chewed slowly. Her face burned as she listened to him. His voice softened as he continued. "I don't dislike children, Sara. I dislike bad parents who raise children who are ill-prepared to face the harshness of this world. I don't like it when children come into my classroom without the most basic concepts of what it means to be what we are or how to control their own impulses."

She processed his words as she drained the last of the milk and set the glass aside. "The human brain develops well into the early twenties. Studies have shown that teenagers make such bad decisions because they simply haven't finished growing yet. But you're right… that's no excuse for bad parenting." She fell silent for a moment, her gaze flicking toward him as she sorted through the jumble of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. "I'm not sure how I feel about this yet."

Severus cocked his head, a half-nod of agreement, she supposed. Long minutes passed before she heard him speak. When he did, his voice was cautious, guarded in a way she had not heard in months. "Sara, what kind of work do you do with dead bodies?"

She lifted her eyes to him, studying him, but found no recrimination there, only curiosity. He truly wanted to know. Slowly she pushed herself to her feet, groping awkwardly for the words. "I sort of thought you knew. Umm… I'm not sure quite how to explain it." She set herself to pacing, her shoulders slumped, lined with fatigue. He remained quietly on the couch, watching her. "Severus, I don't want you to know."

Slowly, too slowly, he began to shake his head. "I'm sorry, but that is not an acceptable answer."

He rose to his feet, stalking toward where she stood closer to the massive fireplace. Sara dragged a hand through her hair, resisting the urge to touch him, to bury her face in his chest. He had offered her no such comfort and she knew better than to take such liberties. Anxiety bubbled up in her as she hissed the admission softly. "I never told you because I knew you wouldn't approve. I could practically hear your voice in my ear, telling me that no decent witch would want anything to do with the dead at such proximity."

Fear gripped her as his eyes flashed dangerously. In that moment, she knew his patience was at an end. "You're right. No decent witch would choose to spend her time with corpses. It's unnatural." The edge to her voice signaled that the conversation was quickly taking a turn.

_Trust him._ The little voice in the back of her mind niggled at her and she pushed it away, bristling as she caught sight of his wand in his hand, gripped with white knuckles. He was angry. She drew in a breath to steady herself. "Maybe not. But then I'm not an ordinary witch, am I? I'm your witch." She didn't know what possessed her, what flared inside her to push her to say something so cruel, something fitting of his acid tongue, not hers. "I'm just your little toy to come when you call, to kneel when you say kneel, be silent when you tell me to be silent."

He froze before her, his eyes flashing as he stared at her, wordlessly. Recklessly, she forged onward. "I'm a plaything. A living doll to be dressed as you like, fucked as you like, and don't get me wrong, the sex is amazing, but it's not about me when you fuck me. It's about you. Your needs, your wants, your fantasies. You see that's why I didn't tell you, Severus, because I needed, I wanted something that was only mine. I spend my entire life in this state of waiting for you, wanting you. I've never asked for anything. Not a damn thing. I've never even asked that you love me, and so my job, it's the only thing I have. It's the only thing that's mine."

Her voice broke on the last word as she sank to her knees. He didn't speak a word as he simply watched her. His fingers flexed around his wand as he finally broke his silence. "You silly girl. It goes both ways, Sara."

Her eyes snapped up, and for a moment she thought she saw hurt reflected in his eyes. Severus shook his head slowly. "You are mine, that is true. You have never asked anything of me, this is also true. But the rest of what you're saying is utter bullshit, as I hear you Americans like to call it. A complete fabrication. You are not expendable. You are not a toy. And I, Sara, am as much yours as you are mine." She shook her head firmly in denial and found herself face to forehead with the tip of his wand as he leveled it at her. His voice was gentle despite the ferocity of the words he spoke. "Normally, I would never do this while you are awake, especially not without your permission. So you must forgive my curiosity. But remember, I did give you the chance to tell my yourself." Severus's voice softened a bit. "I will know every hair on your head. Every scar on your mind, body and soul." It was if a calm had gripped him, the words she'd read in his journal back at Christmas resounding with a new meaning.

The spell blindsided her, the whispered word leaping from his lips to her ears. "Legilimens."

* * *

Severus found himself standing in the middle of her kitchen once more, her earlier expression of surprise and delight mirrored in his own eyes, despite the wariness he detected in her posture. He closed his eyes for a moment and sifted through her memories. She was making no effort to resist him, and for this he was grateful. She was not the kind to be able to shield her mind easily from him.

The smell of medical grade muggle antiseptic hit his nose sharply and he opened his eyes once more. It was a smell he recognized. More than once he'd sat silently in the waiting room while his mother got some broken bone or a cut too deep tended to. It was the kind of smell that was linked with grief, the kind of ingrained memory that never left. He had no idea when he was in Sara's memory, but it was fairly recent. A young man with dark hair, lanky of form and barely out of his teens stood at the opposite end of a gurney from Sara, fingers curled around a body bag. "On three?"

Sara snorted from her end, and in that moment, Severus saw a different side of her. She radiated strength, something he rarely saw when she was with him. It was as if a switch had been flipped. Together, the pair hefted the body bag onto the table and she reached for the clipboard that lay beside her, passing it off to the young man. "Notes, Jordan."

So that was Jordan. That was the man he was jealous of all night? Instantly his jealousy faded, replaced by wry amusement. He felt the dread in the pit of her stomach as if it were his own as she leaned over the body bag and unzipped it. Severus stepped closer to see, morbid curiosity taking hold. He had assumed, for so many years now, that Sara's purity and naivety were the result of a life untouched by darkness. How could he have been so blind.

Snape had to fight the urge to recoil as the condition of the dead man in the body bag was fully revealed. His face was half-gone, hell, his entire head was half-gone, gray matter mingling with blood inside the body bag. Sara stepped away, pulling on a blue paper gown and returning a moment later as she tugged on a clean pair of gloves. There was no revulsion, though the quiet dread that unfurled in his stomach, her dread, now mingled with sadness. She spoke softly toward the lad. "Single gunshot wound to the right frontal lobe, no bullet present at first visual examination."

Severus glanced toward the lad as he began to scribble on the clipboard. His gaze moved toward his wife once more as she gently began to probe at the corpse, as though the man might still twitch. Her voice was still somber. "No other entry or exit wounds. Postmortem internal examination as required will be performed..."

The urge to vomit rose within him as he watched her work. She and the Diener carefully undressed the dead man, and Severus forced himself to watch. He kept his eyes on her face as she lifted the scalpel and made the first neat cut into the man's chest, the beginnings of a y incision. What seemed like hours passed as he watched her work, her expression one of deep concentration as internal organs were removed, weighed, and eventually bagged before neatly putting them back into place inside the corpse.

Severus shook his head, his mind spinning as he forced himself to focus, closing his eyes. Was it always like this? Had she always been this way? Enduring death quietly, alone, and by choice? What was the point? Who would voluntarily do this? He could feel her desperation edge in as he withdrew marginally, letting the memory slip away, going further and further back. Weeks bled into months and a memory pushed at him. He knew she was helpless against what he was doing and frankly it didn't bother him one bit. Snape surged forward toward the light that signaled the memory and opened his eyes once more, finding himself in the same room. She wore a pair of muggle denim trousers and a sweatshirt, her hair tucked neatly into a paper cap as she cradled the folded bag in her arms. Her expression was as somber as it had been before and the urge to vomit rose once again.

Behind her, through the doors the young man, Jordan, appeared again, this time wheeling in a gurney as he spoke. "It's sick, Doc. Who would do something like that?"

Sara closed her eyes and he felt the tears sting at his own eyes as if they were his own. Her memories were vivid, as acute and sharp as if they were happening in the present. Severus stepped toward the autopsy table as Sara gently placed the rolled, empty bag down. "Jordan, I don't need a commentary on the evils of the world. Just do your job." The words were snapped in a tone he'd only ever heard from himself. Severus's eyes fell to the crumpled plastic bag that she was now unrolling gently. Horror gripped him and the word slipped from his lips unbidden and unheard. "No." His suspicions were confirmed when the bag was full length on the table. A tiny child lay inside, unmoving.

He lifted his eyes to Sara once more, her thoughts echoing in his mind as clearly as if he'd thought them himself. _Keep it together. Keep it together._ He watched as his wife drew in a deep breath, felt the antiseptic sting his own lungs once more as she unzipped the bag, revealing the sight of the child within. "Enough." He whispered the word as he saw her gloved hands disappear into the bag and gently grasp the infant, the head supported, cradled as sweetly and gently as if it were still breathing. But the babe's chest was eerily still, the whiteness of death already edging in.

His hands curled into fists as he forcibly ripped himself from her mind, stumbling back physically as he snapped back into his physical body. Sara sat before him, her knees curled into her chest, staring at him, stricken. Her memory still burned in his brain as a physical blow, his mind reeling. "What happened to it? The child? Sara, what had happened to that child?"

Her eyes, her lovely blue eyes reflected a world of pain for a moment before the flicked away, seemingly drained of her energy as she reached for the poker and nudged the fire. "Drive by."

He frowned at her as he put away his wand and lowered himself to the hearth beside her. "What does that mean?"

A sharp inhalation came as she gripped the poker harder, her voice dull. "Her father was holding her, going back into his house. Someone, I don't know who, drove by their house and shot him in the back. The bullet passed through him and hit the baby. Both were killed instantly."

"And why… do you do this?"

He could tell that the surprise in her eyes was genuine. Relief filtered in, her words still low. "The dark arts aren't just something that the wizarding world has to worry about, Severus. Evil exists everywhere and the muggles are far more vulnerable. But even then, a wand can't stop a bullet."

She replaced the poker quietly. "I needed to do something meaningful with my life. I love you, I love being with you, I love seeing your face when you have that stick way up your ass, but Severus, there's something bigger and I want to be a part of the whole world. Not just one world. If I had told you my job, if I'd told you, you would have refused to let me continue."

He stared at her, the words she spoke, the only ones that matter rolling over and over inside his mind. Severus finally shook his head, rising from the fireplace. "Don't say things you don't mean, Sara. It's cruel." He forced softness into his voice as he spun on heel and slowly made his way toward his bedroom. His mind spun with the implications. On the one hand, he had to admire that degree of manipulation, but on the other it angered him that he even wanted to believe her. Love the unlovable. Impossible.

She trailed after him, closing the door to the bedroom softly. He rested his wand on his bedside table and methodically began to undress. Hurt was obvious in her voice. "I know you don't love me, Severus. I won't ever ask you to. But… can you please, just for tonight, pretend not to despise me for inflicting myself on your neat and orderly little world?"

The hurt was real, it lanced through him. Unbelievably, and with startling clarity, he knew in that moment that she meant the words she'd spoken. He spun to stare at her, his eyes wide as he gaped at her, jaw dropped, overtly stunned. His neat and orderly world, life as he'd known it, had spun out of control and was now free-falling. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to indulge in just one split second of joy, savoring the warmth that blossomed within him at knowledge. A child. A wife. Love. Everything he'd never dared to hope for, now it was being handed to him on a silver platter, dangled in front of him like a carrot. But at what price? What happened when she and the baby were ripped away from him by his own actions?

When he opened his eyes once more, quite possibly the cruelest words he ever spoke came out of his mouth. "Do not ask the impossible of me, Sara."  
He regretted them the instant they left his lips and in that moment, as she turned and fled from the room, he hated himself more than ever.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N- Thank you all so much for the kind reviews. If I resolve all their issues in one go, there is no more story. So they will have to bumble along and figure it out at their own snail's pace. Kind of like real life.

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Twenty Five

* * *

Sara pulled her coat more tightly around herself. How long she'd been wandering the halls she didn't know. Hours had passed, she knew that, and the first tendrils of dawn were creeping over the trees in the distance. She still sat in the quiet tower she'd found, surrounded by telescopes and models, apparently some kind of observatory. It was there that she was finally able to breathe deeply, freely. How many lifetimes had it felt like since she'd known that she loved him. There was, as Dumbledore had said, something deep inside Severus that was broken. And she was supposed to fix it. But how the hell was she supposed to fix anything if she didn't even know what it was that was broken?

A part of her had hoped, prayed, that he'd weaken that control of his just long enough to admit that he felt something. It was an uphill battle, but she had, even if foolishly, signed on for the long haul. The only problem that remained was finding out just what the long haul really was.

"Sorry, I didn't know anyone was up here." The soft voice of a young man caught her attention and Sara rose swiftly to her feet, scrubbing at her face as she turned.

She was bone tired, exhausted, and had no real idea what time it was. The young man in front of her was the exact image of the one person she'd never hoped to lay eyes on again in her lifetime. Before she even knew she was moving, her wand was out and the hex had flung from it without so much as an uttered word. He went flying back, hitting a railing, eyes wide and stunned.

Her brain, her poor overloaded, overstressed and unrested brain gave up any sense of reason as she struck again, the fear instinctive on a level she'd never known before, consuming her as she flung her wand outward in an overreaching arch, pummeling him once more with the same hex just as he'd begun to struggle to his feet. Beside her head, the chandelier that hung from the ceiling exploded. Rage filled her, consuming her. NO! He wouldn't touch her again!

The pale blond hair of the young man was quickly matting with blood as she turned blindly. He was on his feet and fighting back. Fuck. Sara found herself flung to her knees from the force of the cutting blow to her back. What the hell was that?

"Sectumsempra!" He shouted the spell again, and again she was propelled forward, blood rushing to the open wound on her right shoulder blade.

She hissed in pain as she gripped her wand more tightly and staggered to her feet, spinning to face him once more, wand at the ready, disarming him swiftly. She crossed the room toward him, her eyes locked to his face as her wand tip pressed into his jugular. "Who the hell are you, boy?"

"Draco Malfoy!" The shout from the doorway captured her attention. Sara's hand trembled, shaking from the force of her confusion, her rage, her fatigue. The young man was visibly shaken, wandless. Dumbledore swept forward toward them, his voice sharp. "Mrs. Snape, lower your wand this instant."

It was that tone, a tone she'd never heard the old man use, that snapped her from her reverie. The world spun before her eyes as she pressed her wand into his throat harder. Had it been a dagger he would have lay on the stone floor bleeding already. She didn't recognize her own voice, stricken and broken. "Draco? His... his name is Draco?" Her wand hit the ground, falling from suddenly numb fingers. In the next moment, she crumpled to the ground, the last coherent thought that registered was the irony that it was the innocent young man she'd attacked that was the one to catch her smoothly and keep her from falling over the railing to the ground below.

* * *

Severus paced outside the infirmary, his arms folded over his chest. Dawn had broken more than two hours before, as had his restless sleep, awakened to the frantic babbling of Draco Malfoy. The boy looked like hell, and when he extended the wand to Severus, Sara's wand, Snape had paled.

He knew even less now than he had when he'd arrived at the hospital wing, immediately sent out by Poppy before he'd even made it through the door. He gave Malfoy a scathing glare. The boy flatly refused to talk, save to mutter an apology. Severus gripped Sara's wand in his hand, holding to it like a lifeline.

Dumbledore emerged from the infirmary, his eyes lighting on Severus. His expression was inscrutable, as it always was when something was on his mind. Severus resisted the urge to launch himself through the door. He settled, instead, for uttering the single word impatiently. "Well?"

The older man lingered in the doorway for a moment before casting fading blue eyes toward Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, what was the exact nature of the spell you used on Mrs. Snape?"

Severus's eyes narrowed, this bit of information dragging him from his worry long enough to stare toward Draco. The lad hadn't told him this part. Only that Sara was in the infirmary, apparently wounded, but had said nothing of him being the cause of it. Severus stiffened the instant he heard the words, his heart stopping in his chest. "Sectumsempra." The boy said this quietly and Severus's eyes darkened, knowing immediately where he'd learned it from.

Severus moved instantly, pushing past Albus and into the infirmary. The urge to flatten the Malfoy heir was only the second most pressing urge. Dumbledore didn't try to stop him this time as he stepped aside and swept into the hospital wing. Poppy was standing over Sara, who lay on her stomach, her face buried in a pillow. For one sickening moment, he stood still, stricken at the side. His kelsalis lay on one of the cots, her back exposed. Twice. The little shit had struck her twice with the spell. Dozens of tiny cuts covered her back, a longer one, a deliberately placed slash over one shoulder blade, marring the lines of her delicate body.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "I don't know the reversal spell, Severus. All I can do is treat the cuts with dittany."

Snape shook his head, his own wand drawn out as he pushed wordlessly past her, drawing a chair close to the edge of the bed with a flick of his wand. He didn't so much as further acknowledge the mediwitch as he lowered his head, his wand tracing over the wounds as he began to work. Minutes later, or perhaps it was hours, he sat in the same chair, staring at her. His classes were canceled for the day, and Sara still hadn't awakened. Despite the matron's attempt to reassure him he'd undone the majority of the damage, he still stubbornly refused to move from his self-appointed station, refused to even speak to anyone, merely sat and stared, wand at the ready to hex Draco Malfoy into oblivion should he dare to so much as poke his head into the room.

"Severus?" Dumbledore's soft voice interrupted his visions of the many different ways to inflict equal pain on the young Malfoy as had been inflicted on his wife. Merlin, he was so tired. Exhausted was the right word. Snape lifted his eyes to Dumbledore, though he did not speak. The Headmaster's gaze flicked to Sara. "Madam Pomfrey tells me there is no more danger to her or the baby."

The acknowledgement of the child that lay within Sara's womb sent a bolt of awareness through him and for a moment, that shot of joy that went with it came again, only to be pushed away with Dumbledore's next words. "I've spoken with Draco Malfoy. He assures me he did not intend any real harm to come to her. He claims she attacked him first, with a stunning spell."

"He's lying." Severus broke his silence, speaking flatly. "Ask Poppy, she'll confirm it. She was hit with two of them, Albus. From behind. Her back was turned to him, she had to be faced the other direction for him to hit her in the back." His eyes moved back to the older wizard for a moment before he shook his head and glanced down again. "Besides, why would Sara attack him? She doesn't even know him."

Albus stepped forward, lowering onto the chair on the other side of the bed. "I think I know the answer to that, but I'm not sure it's one you'll want to hear, Severus." The unfamiliar hesitation brought a new wave of unease. Severus stiffened in his chair as Dumbledore continued. "When I came to you, asked you to bond with her, I told you that she had been contracted at a young age. You own contract with her would supersede the previous."

Snape's eyes never left Sara's form as she shifted in her sleep, dreaming of what though, he could only wonder. His fingers twitched to reach out and touch her, to bring some measure of comfort. Instead he merely stared. "Go on."

The Headmaster's voice lowered, though unneeded. They were alone in the hospital wing. "Her life story is not mine to tell. But this part… Draco does heavily resemble his father, don't you agree?"

Pieces fell into place, the quiet words zinging around his skull and bouncing around as the puzzle took on a new form. He cursed fluidly, his outward calm broken as he rubbed at his temple. "Malfoy. The contract was with Malfoy."

The older man bowed his head for a moment. "Apparently a week or so before she came to me, he sought her out with the intent of enforcing the contract. Sara was quite upset. She contacted me, asking my help, and well, you know the rest. She never knew his name, only that he was English and that he took liberties she didn't think were appropriate. I obtained a copy of the contract for myself, she refused to read it. But the terms, Severus, they were slanted heavily in his favor offering her no protections save death itself."

Severus's eyes lifted, and he made no effort to hide the sneer on his face. "Yes, and so you came to me, to bind me to her because I'm so much gentler."

Dumbledore's voice hardened a shade. "Yes. You are. You may be a rough around the edges, Severus, but you are not a man to abuse a woman, by your very nature. I entrusted her to you, as I have entrusted other things to you as well."

Snape narrowed his eyes on the other man, his own limits reached. "I've said it before, I'll say it again. I do not want to do this anymore. There's more at stake now, unlike all those years ago, Albus… and because of you… I actually have something to lose now. I have something he can use as leverage against me and I can't make certain she's safe."

For a moment, regret shone in the older wizard's eyes. "Yes. It is a dangerous thing I ask of you. But it is something that must be done. There is no other choice, Severus, you know that. But I think, that if you will be patient, just a while longer, you will understand that she is not the burden you think her to be."

Severus shook his head, his voice holding a note of defeat. "She is not a burden. She is the greatest gift I have ever been given. For the first time, since…" He broke off into silence for a moment before going on. "I do not want this anymore, Headmaster. I want a quiet life. I want to live with my wife, and raise my daughter. And that is precisely why, Albus…" He averted his gaze toward the wall behind the other man's head. "That's why this can't go on. Send her back to America, Albus, as soon as she is well enough to go." With that he slipped his wand into his sleeve and rose to his feet, his voice soft. "Send her away. It is the only way."


	26. Chapter 26

A/N – Final word count still project at about 80k, though it's starting to look like it might be a bit more. For those who have been curious, the ending has been determined, and it made me smile in that maniacal way that we writers get when something good pops up. And so on with the second posting of update Wednesdays!

Much love,

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Twenty Six

* * *

She woke, her body screaming in pain. She blinked rapidly as she pushed herself up in the bed gingerly. Beside the bed, Poppy Pomfrey stood, beaming at her. "You've nearly slept the morning away, my dear."

Sara frowned at her, her fogged mind struggling to catch up. "What time is it?"

Madam Pomfrey bustled forward, lowering the potions she held onto the table beside the cot Sara occupied. "Almost noon. You've been here for over a day."

Her eyes widened as she moved quickly. "Severus?"

The older woman laid a hand on her shoulder lightly. "He healed you yesterday morning after that Malfoy boy hit you with a spell I didn't recognize. He stayed for a while, but when I returned from breakfast, he was gone, and I'm afraid I haven't seen him since. But Professor Dumbledore has come by a few times. He'd like to see you as soon as you think you're well enough."

Sara lowered her head, swinging her feet over the side of the bed. "My clothes?"

"Beyond repair, I'm afraid. But you can floo straight to Professor Snape's rooms from here so you don't have to wander the halls in a robe." The woman uncorked the first potion and extended it to her. "The first of your prenatal potions, I understand Professor Snape has made enough for a few weeks. You'll find them in his rooms."

She sniffed the potion cautiously and slugged it back the second vial pressed into her hand. "Something for the pain." The woman explained gently. Sara sighed and drained it, twitching at the less than pleasant flavor. The matron offered her a smile. "Now then, I know you're anxious to be on your way, but we have just a few more things to go over and then I'll let you go."

Sara barely listened as the woman launched into an overly complicated series of post-care instructions, all of which would be promptly forgotten or overtly ignored, but nonetheless, she smiled pleasantly and dutifully repeated back the things she heard. It was, however, nearly half an hour before she was able to escape to Severus's quarters. Once there she peered around herself. He had to be in his classroom. Of course he would be, it was midmorning. No doubt he was in class. Determinedly she made her way toward the wardrobe in the bedroom, tugging it open to stare at the clothes within. Sure enough, buried at the back, she found them. The pair of jeans she'd stuffed away to make room in her bag at Christmas for other things. She pulled them on hastily, tossing the hospital wing issue robe over the foot of the bed and blindly grabbed for the first decent thing in the shirts that hung so neatly. She tugged on one of his white shirts, the ones he invariably wore beneath his teaching robes. It smelled like him, though it was clean and neatly pressed, it still carried that scent.

A shake of her head was given as she slipped her wand into the front pocket of her jeans and jammed her feet into the practical winter boots she'd worn. A quickly jotted note was left on the desk and she was off, wandering the halls in search of Dumbledore's office.

Ten minutes later she found herself seated in front of him, face red as he gently, but firmly, chided her for blindly attacking a student. She fought the urge to rant and rail at him, and inside her stomach, a cold sadness spread over her. It was an entirely foreign sensation, not entirely her own, for she was not sad, but still… it felt… odd. "Sara, you'll be needing to write a letter of apology to his parents. At the least, we need to smooth this over for appearances sake."

Her eyes narrowed on him, seizing that coldness that was not her own, separating it from her anger and the sadness that twined in with it. Her voice sounded nothing like her own. "The boy is equally at fault. My back was turned, Albus." She addressed him boldly as she rose from the chair. "He struck a woman while her back was turned. I shouldn't have stunned him, yes, I agree. And for that I will be happy to send a note of apology to his mother, whoever she might be. But the least that boy deserves is a trip behind the woodshed and a belt laid across his ass for not knowing how to show respect to his elders."

There was no venom in her voice, she was pleased to note, and as she folded her hands behind her back in a posture she didn't entirely recognize, she felt strangely empowered. "Only a coward would hit a woman, any woman, from behind."

Dumbledore rubbed at the bridge of his nose, as if his vaunted patience were wearing thing. "Narcissa Malfoy will undoubtedly feel the same way, however right now, there are allowances for the boy which must be made, no matter. There are things you do not know, Sara, things you must not know."

Her spine stiffened and she drew herself up to her full height. "Yes. There are always things I don't know. But I damn well intend to find out, Albus Dumbledore. Whatever it is that you've done to him, you've taken him from me." Jealousy reared in her head, her breaking point had evidently been reached and passed, and now, all she felt was cold determination. "You have done something to him, Professor. I don't know what it is, I don't know why. But I assure you. I will find out. And I will set right, whatever it is that you've done to him to make him so willing to sacrifice the best thing that ever happened to him." She spoke the words imperiously, knowing them to her core to be true. Confidence bolted through her, zinging like a ball set loose in a pinball machine. Where the hell was it coming from?

She turned on heel, hands behind her back as she strode toward the door. She fucking owned the world in that moment, and damned if she knew why she felt that way. Lost, and yet… found. Confident, and yet as if the entire world were taken from her and only callous determination to meet some goal remained. She reached for the door latch, pausing to glance over her shoulder toward him. "I'm going to see Narcissa Malfoy and then, Professor Dumbledore, I'm going to find my answers."

She couldn't well apparate on the grounds of Hogwarts, that she remember from her walks with Severus through the snow at Christmas. How much had changed in just a handful of days. The instant she was out of the gate, Sara closed her eyes. The memories were not her own, not even true memories, just blank spaces on a canvas that poured forth as she closed her eyes to focus. The anger, the grief, they threatened to overwhelm her. Not her own. Red hair. Green eyes, a lyrical laugh. It was no more than a glimpse, and then gone. No more traces of whoever it had been. Sara drew in a breath,her boots barely making a sound on the freshly fallen snow, snow that still fell around her. She drew the heavy wool cloak she'd found hanging on the back of Severus's wardrobe tighter around her, pulling the hood up and over her head. His scarf dangled around her neck. The very essence of him connected her to something, something she could not put her finger one. His scent enveloped her, clinging to her skin like a shield.

What was happening to her? She shook off the fear that bolted through her. She was not afraid, so why did she feel fear. At last, a clear image touched her mind. A foreboding, gray house, huge and oppressive in its size, cold and powerful, beckoning to her. Her name was called, somewhere in the recesses of her awareness, but she ignored it. A soft crack later and she was gone.

* * *

Severus stood in the center of the lane just inside the gates. He saw her there for a moment, only a moment, lifted his voice to call her name but she had not even seemed to hear him. She disapparated in a black cloud that vanished only a few heartbeats later. He stared after her, his eyes wide and in that moment, if anyone had seen him, that would think that his world had been freshly torn in two.

Her apparition had been black, like his. His suspicions were confirmed and his heart sank lower in his chest. How the hell had she been able to forged backward through the bond to access his own emotions, his memories. It only worked one way. It had only ever worked one way. From the moment they'd been married, when the vow had been set, he had felt every emotion the woman had, as if it were a fingerprint. Only time and discipline had allowed him to sort out a way to distance himself from it, to cope with the sheer overwhelming sensation of another person's emotions layered atop his own.

What's more… the gentle sifting through his mind had crept up, sending him wordlessly sprinting from his classroom, leaving a room full of startled third years staring behind him. For the first time in his adult life, Severus Snape felt utterly helpless and completely at a loss for any explanation.

He closed his eyes for a moment, grinding his teeth as his shoulder slumped and he turned, starting the long walk back toward the school, all the while, praying to a God he didn't believe in, that she wouldn't do something stupid.

* * *

The gate was in front of her. It loomed like a living being, beckoning her inside. She lifted a hand, resting it against the gates for a moment, murmuring a soft spell that broke the barrier. She didn't stop to question how she'd done it, didn't want to. She simply strode forward, ignoring the sound of rustling in the high hedge on either side of the drive and walked toward the house as if she owned the place.

Her mind closed in on itself, single-minded determination, so very cold, lay in her chest, shielding her as surely as the stolen cloak shielded her from the snow that fell around her, obscuring her footsteps as she went. Her forearm burned, and unconsciously, her hand rose, rubbing the place where the sensation arose from. It faded a few moments later, dismissed, as she did all else save for the goal. When she reached the front door, she paused for a moment, her brow furrowing before she rested a hand on it as well. As if on cue, the doors themselves swung open to admit her into the biggest fucking foyer she'd ever seen in her life.

It was cold, gray, and dark. It was as if the entire world had stopped turning and the utter sense of hopelessness rested entirely on her shoulders. Her forearm burned again, this time more intensely. She glanced down toward the wood of Severus's cloak, one brow arching as she idly wondered if she was allergic to it. One slender shoulder lifted in a shrug as a figure appeared at the top of the stairs, descending toward her.

It was him. Her wand was out instantly, extended toward him as she spoke in a voice that didn't even seem to resemble her own. Again, she didn't question it, merely cocked her head to the side. "Take a single step closer and you'll be a eunuch."

The burning of her arm faded again and his voice came, as slithery and slick as she'd first heard it. "Miss Creech. I must say, you are the last person I ever expected to see breaking into my home." He stepped forward, the long flash of blond hair illuminated a dull silver in the light as he passed in front of her.

Sara struck before she could pause to consider the implications of her actions. He deflected the spell that shot from her wand, moving with a grace that rivaled her Kel's. He clucked his tongue as he shook his head. "Now, now, Miss Creech. That's hardly polite. Without even saying hello first?"

She narrowed her eyes on him as she spoke. "So it's true then. You're Draco Malfoy's father."

He stepped fully into what little light there was, his head cocking to the side, and in that moment, she pitied him. The man who'd strode abruptly into her classroom five years before, bearing a contract she hadn't signed, imperious and out of place in his laughable attempt to emulate muggle clothing. His words that day had been no laughing matter though as he'd coolly informed her that he was calling in the contract his own father had arrange decades before. The man who stood before her though, was barely a shadow of the one she'd feared for so long. His face was lined, and there was some tinge of fear about him that she didn't understand. The power and air of authority had faded, leaving a broken man in its wake. His voice was soft, almost gentle. "Lower your wand, Sara. I have no intent to harm you."

Strangely, she believed him. Cautiously, ever so cautiously, the hand that held her wand lowered. He did not move toward her, instead speaking lowly. "Dumbledore sent word earlier. I know why you're here."

Her jaw tightened and the hand holding her wand raised once more as she hissed the words. "I suppose it makes sense that you were the one to teach your son how to treat a woman when her back is turned. Payback?"

He shook his head, his own hand lifting, though it was empty. He motioned her to lower her own wand once more. "No, Miss Creech."

"Snape." She corrected him instantly, pridefully. "My name, is Sara Snape."

The man's step faltered, surprise lighting his eyes as he observed her. "Severus?"

She lifted her chin, drawing herself up to her full height. He chuckled wryly, danger entering shrewd eyes. He spoke once more, his voice taking on the silken tone she recalled so well, and in that moment, he seemed to seize something, some idea, some morsel. "I suppose it makes sense, given how you are dressed. His hand me downs? Of course, Severus couldn't afford to keep a woman in any real style, I shouldn't be surprised. Tell me, girl, does he at least feed you well?"

Rage flashed through her, cold rage and her body stiffened. "My husband keeps me well."

"Your Kel keeps you well." He corrected her as though he had any right to. Sara bristled as she took a step back. Sara's arm burned once more and this time, it was enough pain to break her concentration. She fisted her hand around her wand and it was enough for the man to get close enough to grip her upper arm none too gently. "You're here now, and there is someone, Sara, that you really must meet. He's been most curious about you."

She released a small whimper of pain as she found herself hauled forcibly by the arm toward the stairs. She clutched her wand like a lifeline as the burning intensified, fading only when she found herself pushed unceremoniously toward the blazing fire. It was the first spark of warmth in the room. She stumbled for a moment, catching herself on the mantle. She straightened, the voice that came softly was almost comforting in its quiet. "You may kneel, child."

Sara spun to stare at the source of the sound. The sight of the creature, almost a man, not quite a man, seated in the chair before her repulsed her instantly, yet somehow, her mind slammed closed of its own accord. A wand appeared in his hand, and he gestured to the ground, reiterating his words. She hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the blond man who had now stepped away. The sound of the front doors opening again below was barely heard, the quick footsteps also going unnoticed. She felt the cold wood of the floor beneath her knees before she even registered obeying.

It began to dawn on her belatedly, through the cold haze of fearlessness, through the sharp clarity of a new presence shrouding her mind, and the new voice adding to the conversation. "My Lord, you called?"

Sara's eyes raised to meet those of her husband, and for an instant she felt only fury, but then it was gone as quickly as it had come. In that instant she knew. She was in way over her head.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N- Right, so a bit more thought, and apparently we're looking at closer to 90K total, which is actually …. Kinda awesome really since I've never written anything that long in my life, including my first two novels. So, onward we forge!

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Twenty Seven

* * *

He stared at her as she knelt at Voldemort's feet. Rage, pure, unadulterated rage coursed through him. Whatever had possessed her was broken in that moment. He forged through the bond, slamming walls around her mind, bolstering whatever paltry shields she had against the force of the Dark Lord, doing what he could. Severus drew in a breath, slowly, his own control snapping into place as he bowed formally before the more powerful wizard. "My Lord, you called?"

The other man gave a broad smile. Sara's eyes flicked to the snake curled up contentedly on the floor not far from her. Severus did not respond to the question in her eyes, his own gaze narrowing on her in warning. To his relief, she remained silent. Voldemort gestured toward Sara with his wand. "This one here, she managed to get past the wards at the gate and the front door. Perhaps can explain how this is possible, Severus?"

The danger in the question was overt. Sara was starting to panic. Severus remained standing where he was, her fear settling in his own stomach. He pushed it away, forcing his mind to focus on the moment at hand, speaking smoothly. "I would be curious to know that myself. Speak, Woman." His voice hardened on the last word, hating himself even as he did it.

Severus watched as she drew in a breath. "I… I don't know." Severus kept his face schooled into a mask of cold neutrality. She glanced toward him and he could feel her confusion mounting.

"I suggest you try to remember, Sara. You know how badly things can go if you attempt to lie to me." He surged forward through the connection, bolstering her walls, cracking through a certain point. He knew she could feel him, in her mind, and he felt her anguish intensify. He could tell what was coming, and though there was nothing he could do to stop it, he nudged against a particular memory, a warning, as much of one as he could give. Instantly he felt the first brushes of the Dark Lord's mind against her own and Severus withdrew, leaving her on her own.

To his astonishment, she did not crumble, but rather looked Voldemort straight in the eye as she blurted out the words with just the right mix of fear and awe. "Something drew me. I put my hand on the gate, and I said something, and it just disappeared. I don't remember what I said, it just… felt right."

Severus did not relax as he cast his eyes to the Dark Lord. The man's expression was intent as he sifted through Sara's mind and Severus only hoped in this moments, that it would be enough, what he'd helped her to focus on. The anger that burned inside him so brightly now was hers. However, her expression was serene, set as if she were gazing on the most beautiful face she'd ever seen. A few seconds lapsed before the Dark Lord relaxed back into his chair once more, murmuring the words softly. "Remarkable. She is telling the truth. And what's more…" His eyes rested on Snape for a moment, approval in his tone. "You keep her under discipline, Severus. This pleases me. You are quite forgiven, my most faithful servant, for your delay in presenting her to me. It seems, she has come of her own accord."

What. The. Fuck. Only years of practice kept his expression from changing as he inclined his head to the words. A few feet away, Lucius Malfoy looked like someone had plucked his favorite toy from the bin and smashed it to pieces. Just as Severus had dared to hope Sara would escape relatively unscathed, the blond man blurted the words. "Not bloody likely."

Voldemort's gaze shifted, coming to rest on Malfoy. He sat in stone silence. Malfoy realized his mistake a moment later and stepped forward, his voice placatory. "My Lord, of course he keeps her under a strict discipline. One must with her kind."

And there it was. Severus had to resist the urge to punch the other man in his smart mouth. Severus cut in, speaking smoothly. Damage control was a particular specialty of his. "My Lord, Lucius is correct. My wife is of a particularly pliable disposition."

"Pliable disposition? A Kelsalis is for fucking, not marrying, Snape!" The vehemence in his voice attested to the nature of the idea as repugnant to him.

Severus cut in once more, anxiety clenching in the pit of his stomach. "Perhaps it is as you say, Lucius. But nevertheless, the decision is mine, as is the woman, and I chose to formalize the bonding as such that she is bound to me for life. Not just my life, but her own." He cut his gaze back to the Dark Lord, speaking as though he meant every word. "She has a rebellious streak, my Lord. I thought it prudent to tie her right to live to my own. By the signing of her contract, I was granted her body and by the binding in marriage, per the old ways, I was granted her very life."

Voldemort digested this for a moment, his cold eyes lowering to Sara, who still knelt. "You willingly entered into this state with my servant, child?"

Sara drew in a breath, and in that moment, Severus realized. She was wearing his coat. He looked a bit closer. And his scarf. And his shirt. Despite the tense moment, he found himself a bit prideful of this. And in that heartbeat, he understood just how a woman of her nature could come to be regarded as nothing more than an object, a prize to be paraded and passed around. She murmured the words softly, staring the Dark Lord directly in the eyes. "I did."

Voldemort peered at her for a moment longer. "In the old ways, my dear girl, your kind are nothing more than chattel. Most witches, especially those who have your powers, would wish to keep them for their own, rather than give them to someone such as Severus."

Sara's gaze flicked to him, confusion clear in ice blue eyes. Severus's face burned as she spoke the words slowly. "I'm not sure what you mean."

The Dark Lord chuckle. "He is a half-blood, and from no family of true worth, a man of limited means, save a keen intellect. He is clever, and a gifted wizard, but he lacks the means to place him on equal footing with his peers among my ranks."

It was a test, he knew this. Sara swallowed hard as she shifted her eyes back to Voldemort. The stubbornness he had suspected she possessed in spades but so rarely showed was evident now as she lowered her eyes demurely to the floor. "That isn't for me to know. What my Kel wishes me to know, he tells me. He taught me on the first day, not to ask questions and now I see why."

Severus's heart sank. To his surprise, Voldemort merely chuckled, as if genuinely amused by her. "I see what Severus means now, why he must keep you on a tight leash. Stand, girl, and go to your Master."

To his unending relief, Sara rose and darted to his side. His astonishment did not end there though, as she slipped behind him, half a step away and just to his left. It was a familiar position, one he'd read about, from times long past. He'd not even known she knew about it, but she placed herself subserviently, and it appeared naturally, at a heeling position. Severus saw his chance and seized it. "Sara, kneel."

He glanced back at her, and found to his unending surprise, and no small amount of pleasure, that she knelt once more, swiftly, planting herself just beside his left foot. Voldemort glanced toward Malfoy once more. "Why is it your concern, Lucius, what Severus does with the girl?"

Malfoy paled. Severus gave an almost savage grin, and in that moment Lucius would know… that he knew. Severus waited however, for the other man to address the Dark Lord, to dig his own grave deeper. The words came haltingly. "I… she…"

Severus's lips curled into a sneer. Voldemort glanced toward him, giving a nod that he should speak. "He was the one to hold her pre-contract, my Lord. It was he she was running from when she went to Dumbledore and Dumbledore in turn gave her to me." Malfoy eyed him and Severus knew in that moment the gloves were off. "I suppose he's simply a bit put out that the penniless half-blood should be the one to have the shiny toy."

Snape inclined his head toward the Dark Lord. Voldemort's eyes dropped to where Sara still knelt in silence, her gaze trained on the floor as if it held the secret to the world. When he spoke again, he addressed Sara directly. "Your kind are valuable, girl. Better to be kept by a man who is unfailingly loyal though he be of modest means than one who can't be grateful for what he has been given."

The Dark Lord lifted his eyes to Severus once more. "Take your toy and go, Severus. Discipline her so she remembers not to interfere where she does not belong. Next time, I will not be so lenient."

Relief filtered through him and Snape executed a perfect bow, snapping the word toward Sara. "Come." Now that the danger was passed for the moment, rage flowed through him freely. He made his was down the steps and out the door. Until they were out of the gate, he did not speak. The instant the gates reappeared behind them, he spun, gripping her arm and hauling her close.

He did not speak, but stared at her for a long moment, torn between shaking sense into her and kissing her until her lips bled. Instead, he merely apparated, waiting until they were in the sitting room of Spinner's End to release her. She lowered her head, and the words were not what he expected. "I'm sorry, Severus."

His temper flared, snapping as he hissed the words at her, pacing behind his chair to put a physical barrier between them. "Sorry? Sara, Sorry is when you break a teapot, or set a cauldron to melting with a fire beneath it too hot. Sorry… does not begin to cover the damage you just could have done, that might still be done."

"Dumbledore didn't tell me. I didn't know." She lifted a hand, rubbing at her left arm through the coat.

Worry flitted across his awareness for a moment as he watched her. Her head hung as she shrugged out of his cloak. Beneath it she wore one of his shirts. It swallowed her whole, hiding her figure. In that moment, he envied his shirt. Good heavens, he was jealous of an inanimate object. Severus shook his head, dragging a hand through his hair. "Why did you go there? How on earth did you even get there?"

"I don't know!" She lifted her voice, shouting at him for the first time. He'd never known her to raise her voice and now her anger burned brightly in him, consuming him as surely as his own. "I honestly do not know, Severus. It didn't even feel like me. I have never been there before in my life, but I closed my eyes, and I thought of Narcissa Malfoy, and suddenly, I saw that gate, and I knew that's where I had to go."

She rubbed at her arm once more, her eyes closing as she spun away from him, moving toward the kitchen. Severus watched her, worry now warring with the anger as she turned on the tap and filled the tea kettle. "Sara, what's wrong with your arm?"

"I don't know." She spoke flatly as she slammed the kettle onto the hob and tugged open a drawer to rummaged for matches. Severus lifted a brow as he watched her begin to try to make tea, in her anger, the muggle way. Had the woman forgotten she was a witch.

He stepped around her turning the knob and pointing his wand with a soft frown, lighting the fire beneath the kettle. Sara ripped the drawer from its runners and hurled it past his head toward the wall. Severus dodged it smoothly, a skill picked up after years of ducking exploding cauldrons. His anger faded, wry amusement filtering in. Her frustration was actually quite amusing. Silverware clattered to the floor and she stood silently for a moment. He finally spoke, unable to keep the smile from his voice. "Feel better now?"

She glanced up at him from beneath long lashes, still breathing heavily, her face flushed. A soft sound of surrender ushered forth from her. "Yes. Actually, I do."

He nodded as he took a step forward. "Good. Now, about your arm?"

She stared at him, her expression a mingling of wariness and relief. "There's nothing wrong with it. It just started… burning earlier. It still smarts. That's all. It's not even burning anymore, it stopped when you got there."

In that moment, he stared at her in open disbelief. The bond he had known so little about over the past years had changed, shifted ever so subtly, and now it was confirmed. He bowed his head heavily, mind reeling as he shrugged off his spare cloak, the itchy one he hated, and moved to drop into a chair. "Best make enough tea for both of us, this could take a while."


	28. Chapter 28

A/N- Update Wednesday is drawing slowly to a close. Look for perhaps one more chapter following this if I don't run low on coffee. Smexy fun time alert.

Fair warning, this chapter contains heavy doses of D/s dynamic (which, let's face it… if you've read this far, you know that those concepts factor heavily into this story), some violent (consensual) kinky sex, and is dark and intense. And I can not stress that _intens__e_ hard enough. If you're not in the mood for a dark look inside what the Severus Snape in my twisted imagination is capable of, then click away now.

Yes, I am aware I put a fair amount of sex and violence into my writing. It is, I believe, a powerful experience when wielded correctly in a story, that can serve the function of moving a plot along when it's something more than gratuitous. And I have to say, each of the scenes so far, hold as much power in their story, as any other chapters. So yah, on with the violent smexing!

PS- Thanks goes to Winkie for the word Voldypants. Best. Name. Ever. Srsly, that's even better than Roger the Owl.

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Twenty Eight

* * *

Two pots of tea later, she still sat in the half backed wooden chair across the tiny table from him, her battered mind filtering through the explanation. "So, the bond… it's going both ways now. That's what you're saying."

Severus nodded slowly. "Yes."

"And you've been feeling my emotions for almost five years, and you never thought to tell me this?" She couldn't keep the incredulity from her voice. He opened his mouth to speak and she shook her head swiftly. "Don't, just don't. You can't help it, I get that. But what I don't understand, Severus, is this. Why would you keep that from me?"

Her only answer for a long moment was an arched brow. When he finally spoke, his voice held that same distant calm that he'd had for the past hour. "How many real conversations have we had in the past five years, Sara?"

He had her there and he knew it. She could tell by the smug look in his eyes. She shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose to fend off the encroaching headache. "So, this Voldemort guy."

The strangled sound of his choking on the scalding tea brought her eyes back to him. Sara lifted one hand to forestall the protests that she knew by now would come, correcting herself. "Sorry, sorry…. He who must not be named… what the hell kind of shit is that? I mean, really. Give the guy even more power through fearing his very name? It's ridiculous."

She had to admit, she rather liked these new rules, speaking freely was a whole new experience and to his credit, her husband's only response was a soft sigh. "Language. Really, I don't like it when you curse like a back alley whore getting tupped against a wall."

The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "Then you had better tup me against a wall like a back alley whore, Severus, because I have no intention of changing the way I speak. You don't like it, deal with it. You told me to speak freely and until you rescind that, I intend to say what I damn well please, as I damn well…" She paused a moment, smirking darkly, lacing liberal curses in just to rouse his temper. "Pardon, as I fucking goddamn titfucking assfucking fuckery bloody damn well please."

His response was instant and complete, and to her astonishment, she felt the arousal unfurl in her stomach as if it were her own. Sara inhaled sharply as she blinked at him. Flashes of images filtered through her mind, unbidden, images she'd never considered. Her on his knees before him, his hand fisted in her hair. She bit back a whimper as the images faded and she found herself staring into darkened obsidian eyes. All subject matter was lost on her as she murmured the words. "Yes. Please."

Severus stared at her, his lips parting as he drew in a breath. "You saw that."

She moved as if possessed, her lower lip drawing into her mouth as she watched him. His eyes were locked onto her face and the full force of his desire hit her full on. He may not love her, but he wanted her. It was a start, and she intended to give him just what he wanted. She rose to her feet, unsure where the courage came from. Severus didn't move and once more, her vision was clouded. The words rang in her mind, a silken drawl that could only be him. _Like a back alley whore, my love? _ It zinged down her spine and straight to her core and she found herself standing before him for a moment before she nodded, the words a bare whisper. "Yes… please."

Her brain blossomed into color, his eyes burning brightly as she lowered to her knees before him. He shifted, as if drawn by some force he didn't want to acknowledge. His fingers laced into her hair and she found her head wrenched back in his grasp, his voice soft. "You heard as well."

Sara's eyes fluttered closed. Was this how he felt? The power, the seductive knowledge of the full extent of her response to him? It filtered over her conscious mine, lighting her body with a flood of fire. Her lips parted, a soft sound issuing forth from her and she found herself staring up into his eyes once more. "Yes."

A groan slid from his lips and Sara found his lips on hers in the next moment, hard and possessive, teeth and tongue taking control of her body, her mind bending all too willingly to him. _Mine._ The word rebounded around her skull, wrapping her in silk and winding around her like a physical binding, connecting her to him. Her craving intensified as he plundered her lips and when he drew back, she could scarcely breath as the emotions played across her awareness. Desire, arousal, hunger and dark intent settled under steely determination. She croaked out the words, yielding to his will without conscious decision. "Only yours. Only ever yours."

He rose from his chair, his voice audible this time. "What have you done to me, Witch?" The gentle tone was at direct odds with the warning words that came. "I'm not going to apologize, Sara. I want to be hard with you, I want to cause you pain, I want to…" He trailed off, as if struck by an odd realization. "I want to scare you. Until you run so far, and so fast that you understand I will never be the man you deserve to have." His eyes darkened with anger in the next moment as he uttered the words. "I'm going to hurt you if you stay, Sara." His fingers slipped from her hair, his lips pressing to her forehead in an absurdly gentle kiss. Confusion filtered in, pain and bewilderment next. "Leave." His voice was soft, so soft.

Common sense told her to run. And yet she remained there, rooted where she knelt. He turned his eyes from her and she finally understood. She rose to her feet, her hands rising, and for once she didn't seek permission. She didn't stop to consider the consequences of her actions. There was nothing to turn over in her mind as she spoke gently. "You can't break me, Severus Snape."

* * *

His face twisted into something that would have sent a full grown man running. He knew it the instant she touched him. The words were a challenge, a taunt. The darkness within him, borne of so many years flared fully and violently to life. His hands settled on her shoulders, pushing her away from him with a shove. She planted her feet and did not let go. Merlin, why wouldn't she let go?

Rage spurred him onward as he settled his hands at her hips and hauled her against himself. "Can't break you? You think that's what this is about? You think I want to break you?" In that moment, he wanted nothing more, better she be broken at his hands, by the monster she knew, than the monster she didn't know yet had knelt so compliantly for earlier. His innate possessive nature flared as he bared his teeth at her, one hand tangling into her hair. "If I wanted you broken, my love, you wouldn't stand a chance."

Her eyes glittered, strength threading through them and then, in a moment that sparked off a firestorm, she had the audacity to smile. It was not her usual sweet smile, no, it was a taunting challenge. "I don't believe you, Severus Snape. I don't believe you can break me."

How did she know just what to say to push him past his breaking point. He released her with a snarl. "Slut."

Her expression never changed and she showed no sign of revulsion at the words, tossing one right back at him. The only word that would inflame him beyond reason. "Coward."

Dimly, admiration blossomed for her tenacity. He knew what she was doing, even as his response came, unleashing what lay inside him, dormant and untouched for so long. "Don't. Call. Me. Coward."

She lifted her chin, toying with fire as if she knew precisely what she was doing. "Severus Snape… afraid of a girl half his size." She sing-songed the words, as though chiding an unruly child. "Afraid that he's finally met his match. Hiding behind honor… behind big scary words… " She moved around him, stalking in a slow circle. It was as a match to a flame as her warm breath drifted over his ear from the right. "Coward."

"Be quiet." Snape narrowed his eyes. His hands balled into tight fists.

Still she defied him, forging onward, foolishly. "Severus Snape… a coward is precisely what you're being. Warn me you'll hurt me. Promise me mind-blowing sex, your cock down my throat, and then you don't give it to me because you're… afraid of me."

"I am _not _afraid of you, rebellious little slut." He didn't even regret the words.

"Coward." She repeated herself and his hand shot out as he spun, wrapping his fingers around her throat.

He took a step back, his wand drawn, sweeping the teapot and cups off the table as he bodily lifted her by the throat and slammed her down onto it. His fingers tightened as his face twisted with the force of his rage. "I will not be like him."

She didn't even flinch as her fingers moved to wrap around his wrist, her voice still silky, as taunting as ever and he realized in that moment he wasn't actually hurting her. "You can't hurt me. You can't scare me. You can't break me. Do it."

Snape found himself nose to nose with her. "You knelt for him." Cold determination took hold. "You answered his command and you knelt before him as you should have been kneeling before me."

Her eyes lit with triumph and he tightened his fingers on her throat as he fought the urge to slap the bloody expression off her face. She hissed the words at him. "Aww, Severus, why so upset? Did the big bad Voldypants play with your toy? Afraid it's him I'll be thinking of? Afraid it will be his cock I'm thinking of as I'm begging for yours?"

His lips brushed hers as his fingers released her throat a moment later, the cold want within him enveloping her fully as he pushed into her mind. "There is no chance of that, I assure you. There will be no chance, of any man, ever taking my place. On your knees… now." He took a step back and lowered his wand, his mind filing away the details. Her eyes were narrowed, glazed with something he'd never seen, a height of arousal uncurling within him that he'd never before known. He was going to break her. He was going to take what was his and he was going to kill the foolishness inside her, drive her back to where she belonged, in a corner of her mind where he was her Kel. He would be as her god, and a feared god he would be.

His eyes flicked to the floor as she knelt, Her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. A flick of his wand and she was nude, and for a moment her expression flickered. It was war. He saw it burning in her eyes and as if on cue, the light bulb in the long-dead sconce over his head exploded, sending showers of glass on them. He paid them no mind and apparently, neither did she. "I did warn you."

She lifted a brow as his wand flicked again and her arms were forced behind her back. So this was the power that he'd heard about, the degree to which it could affect a man. It was like a drug. Her lips parted as he tangled his fingers in her hair, dragging her to her him. His fingers traced over her face as he murmured the words. "It will be only me, Sara, that you will kneel for, that you will beg, that you will remember tomorrow night when you're in your bed, safe and sound."

He lowered his wand to rest it on the table, his arousal straining at his trousers as he stared at the overtly obscene picture she presented for his eyes, his pleasure. He released her only long enough to draw his overcoat and shirt and loosen his trousers, reaching to tug her closer, the earlier words that had run through his head hurled down toward her mockingly. "Like a back alley whore, my love."

Sara's eyes glazed at the words and the surge of power that came with her willing submission bolted through him again. This woman was born to press all the right buttons. He freed his cock and pressed it to her lips, the words a guttural snarl. "Open your mouth." He expected revulsion, fear, perhaps even a breaking of her charade. Instead, he found himself releasing a hiss as her lips parted, tongue flicking out over the underside of his length.

He gritted his teeth and fought the overwhelming desire to indulge in the violent need that overtook him. No. He would make her suffer. The sadist in him was fully unleashed and he would rain hell down on the little witch before him who had dared to unlock that door. He wrenched her head forward, forcing himself into her mouth. The warm cavern welcomed him, as though she were made for him, for this. She did not cry out in fear though, a soft moan was muffled and he felt it. Fuck. His eyes closed for a moment, his control snapping as he thrust forward, burying his full length inside the sweet cradle of her throat.

She didn't struggle, but still, unbelievably gave another moan as he cracked his eyes open and stared down at her. Sara shuddered, her body crying out, the need echoing within him, begging wordlessly. Couldn't break her? He murmured the words softly. "No. You don't get to have pleasure, Sara, not yet." It was then he heard it, the first stifled sob of need that deliciously lost itself.

He withdrew from the confines of her throat, allowing her a moment to draw in breath. He wanted to break her, not kill her. Without warning he slammed his hips forward once more, dragging her head back down on his full length, relishing the sight of her lips stretching around him. It was the single most erotic thing he'd ever seen in his life. He gave up any semblance of control then, his fingers tightening into a white-knuckled fist in her hair as he withdrew and thrust back into her mouth again, to the hilt every single time.

Pleasure surged through him, power twisting with it in a dangerous dance. Her throat closed around him reflexively as he held himself inside her, her lips pressed to his flesh as if in cruelly forced worship. His cock twitched inside her throat as he smiled down at her, the mocking words on his lips unfurling a new level of want inside him. "Do you understand yet, Sara? I can not only break you, I control you, everything about you, right down to the privilege of drawing air." They were words he would not have dared otherwise speak as he withdrew from her, leaving her choking in a heap as he watched her.

She coughed, her face red, tears of frustration streaking down her cheek as she tugged at her arms. He watched, his arousal only mounting as the seconds passed as she drew in the precious air he'd finally deigned to grant her. Her words however, were not the surrender he'd expected, her voice betraying the rough treatment. "More."

He snapped them, his grip on her hair tightening for a moment before flinging her to the floor with a sickening thud. He was on her before he could stop himself, propelled by some force that urged him onward. He pushed her head down, his cock slamming into her slick heat as he drove himself home. She groaned, her walls forced to accommodate the invasion. She was wet, and ready for him. He curled his body over hers, hissing the words as he fucked her. "Slut, you knelt for him."

The accusation was one he might regret later, yet now, was forced from him, his darkest need rising in him. He wanted to rip her apart from the inside, situated himself in her mind until only he existed and he consumed her as she consumed him. He wanted her to know how it felt to be trapped, to be freed by the very thing that trapped. His fingers dug into her neck, forcing her face to the cracking, decades old linoleum as he hurled the words at her. "You knelt for him. You knelt at his feet, Sara." Anger consumed him. Hatred burned in that moment, hatred for what she'd done burned so bright and so hot that it flared through him. She was his. Only his. His thrusts were brutal as he slammed into her, his length driving downward into the slick warmth of her body. She welcomed him, and whimpered, the soft mewls of pleasure that she gave blinded him to all else. He needed her. The thought was wrenched from him unwillingly and he lifted his head up, giving a roar of rage as he gripped her hips, pummeling into her. How dare she? How dare she make him need her?

Like air, like breath, like water. He needed her. He could feel the pleasure unfurling at the base of his spine as he snapped the words out, yielding to the need to feel her body giving him everything she was. "Cum. Now." She screamed then, a genuine sound of pleasure mingling with pain as her hands curled into fists. And still she did not beg him to stop, she didn't plead for mercy. Her abused walls tightened around him as he gave a guttural snarl, his hips battering into hers one last time as he sought to bury himself in her as deeply as he could as his seed released into her, his anger burning bright and hot as the sun. She collapsed beneath him, her body an untidy heap as he pulsed inside her, filling her.

He gripped her hips to his own, his arousal still hard inside her, suspended for a moment between pleasure and the blinding realization of just what he'd done to her. Her body was bruised, battered, her lip split and bleeding.

She breathed heavily, the words that spilled from her lips were the last that he expected to hear, and deep inside him, something split apart, fracturing to his very soul. "You can't… break me, Severus Snape."


	29. Chapter 29

A/N- Okay, I caved and fired up a new pot of coffee, so we're gonna be posting for at least one more chapter. Don't even pretend I'm not depraved. Embrace it. I know I do. This chapter is a bit lighter.

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Twenty Nine

* * *

The envelope mocked her. The spidery handwriting, so precise and militaristic in its precision was unmistakable. Sara's heart leapt in her chest at the sight of it. She stared at the handwriting, her fingers moving to snatch the envelope from the desk's surface. She'd been saving it all day, savoring the anticipation of the words written within. Outside, rain battered against the window, and on the desk, her university issue swill that passed for coffee steamed. May had always been her favorite month, the torrential downpours of April often bled over into May, and she loved rain. Her gaze flicked to the window for a moment as she caught herself holding the envelope to her nose, then snorted. She was turning into a lovestruck fool. Inside her, annoyance blossomed, and a headache began to edge in. It wasn't her own, yet it turned her world on tail. On glance at the clock told her it was almost dinner time where he was. No wonder he was annoyed. He had to be surrounded by teenagers.

Sara carefully broke the seal on the envelope and pulled the letter out. It was almost a full page this time, a declaration of love indeed, when one was talking about the snarkiest man in all of Britain. Valentine's day and the few days that followed had changed something, yet again, in the ever mercurial and tenuous marriage. It felt, almost real. The baby pegged her in the ribs and she winced, glaring down toward her abdomen as she spoke aloud, sternly. "Just hold your horses, I'll read it to you when I'm done. My turn first, brat."

Her gaze lowered to the page as she leaned back into the chair, attempting to get comfortable, the curious sensation of contentment unfurling inside her now as whatever was going on in Scotland apparently calmed, along with her Kel.

_I hate teaching. Have I ever mentioned that? Nothing but idiots, I swear. I walked into my classroom this morning to find my entire desk littered with feathers and bird droppings, and of course no one knew anything about it. _

She smirked lightly as she reached for her coffee. Good for them for giving him hell.

_Madam Pomfrey has asked me to remind you that you are due to brew another batch of the prenatal potions next week. She has advised me against trying to send them via owl and reminded me (as if I need reminding) that to use muggle post is a bad idea. I, of course, have already taken care of this for you. Expect delivery via UPS sometime this week. _

_You need a new owl, Sara. Roger overshot my chair at the breakfast table this morning and rebounded off a wall. Be thankful that Hagrid moves fast for such a large fellow, else I fear your bird might have suffered a concussion. As it was, he spent the rest of the morning following me and narrowly missed shitting on Potter's head. Literally missed by a half-inch. Pity. _

She nearly choked on her coffee as she lowered the cup to the able, her lips twitching at the thought. She didn't care much for the Potter kid, but tried to reserve judgment. Teenage boys had a way of being wretched simply because of age. She read on.

_I have been asked to give you regards from Molly and Arthur Weasley, and their congratulations. After the initial shock of the revelations that Lucius revealed to her in a fit of rage after you left, Narcissa has assured me that Draco will not repeat such actions and has asked me to send you her kindest regards and apologies. Frankly, Draco Malfoy is an annoying little shit, and you should have hexed him a few more time just on principle. _

Where the hell had he gotten a sense of humor in the past month since his last letter. Sara buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking for a moment before she managed to sober enough to read on. However the words she read tempered her joy with worry instantly.

_Things are growing darker by the day, and I find myself wondering if it was all some kind of dream, Sara. What have you done to me, that I find myself waking up and reaching for you, only to find you are not there. It feels as if a part of me is missing. And I hate it. _

The letter was unsigned, and in an instant, anxiety unfurled within her, cocooned and wrapped in hesitance. Sara folded the letter neatly and tucked it back into the envelope. It was his anxiety. She glanced toward the clock, then toward the door. Her second class of the day would be arriving soon. She let her eyes fall closed for a moment, her hand resting on her belly, still unused to it, and still awkward about it. She was just over halfway there, and still uncertainty loomed.

Sara reached for the binder on the desk in front of her, grabbing a bic pen from the jar uncapped it and began to write.

* * *

Severus glanced up at the N.E.W.T students who were bowed over their texts, busy working on the essay he'd assigned. A soft cooing caught his attention at the open doorway. Roger appeared, looking more haggard than he'd seen in some time. It was astonishing the poor animal hadn't dropped dead yet. The owl zinged past his head, as he barreled rolled and bounced off the column behind Severus with an affectionate coo and an explosion of feathers so large Severus was stunned the beast had any left. The envelope floated to his desk to land neatly atop it and Snape cocked his head for a moment, listening to see if the bird had survived. To his astonishment, Roger trilled as he shot right back up and promptly got tangled in the chandelier. Suicidal bloody git.

Snape ignored the snickers and gave a stern glare toward the class. The students settled immediately, a few red faces in the front row, and he opened the envelope. It was his one guilty pleasure. He stopped whatever he was doing, any time the deranged fowl appeared with something for him. It had become the one beacon of light in the dark, quickly narrowing world. Even just the sight of her handwriting soothed him. His ribs ached. Why the bloody hell did his ribs ache constantly these days?

_Severus, _

_Don't give Roger such a hard time. He likes you. Yesterday, I came home to find that he'd drug your black turtleneck from my bed and managed to worm his way inside it. Don't laugh, yes, I sleep with your sweater. I know you're smiling… on the inside._

Indeed he did smile at that, and yet again, warmth flared in his chest, chasing away the cold. June in Scotland was still freezing. But then it was bloody Scotland. It was always fucking freezing. A ghost of a smile passed over his face as the neat handwriting leapt from the page once more.

_I had a visit with my obstetrician yesterday. She assured me that the butterbean is fine, healthy and growing normally. _

The mention of the child brought a new, strange ache to his chest. He wondered for a moment, what Sara looked like now. He made a mental note to ask her to enclose a snapshot in her next letter, if he was alive to receive it. The coming weeks loomed over him, the knowledge of the imparted task hanging over his head as if it were his own death. He shook his head and turned his eyes downward once more.

_I was glad to find that you had suddenly grown a sense of humor over the last few weeks, wherever did that come from? It did my heart good, Severus, to see that your spirit is still intact, despite the darkness you wrote about. I would write some flowery words here, but frankly, it's late, and I'm completely tired. Your daughter seems to like to do somersaults at four am. She has to get that from you. I will see you soon, Severus. _

_All my heart, _

_Sara_

His fingers traced her name before folding the letter once more and lifting the envelope, opening it to tucked it back inside. The corner of another, thinner piece of paper caught his eye. He furrowed his brow curiously before drawing it out and peering at it. At first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a gray shadow on a black background. On closer inspection, Sara's precise handwriting had tagged a chunk of the blob with an arrow. 'Heart' it said. Another blob was tagged 'head'. And still another 'bum'. Snape's heart stopped cold as the blobs took on a new form. In that moment, he realized, it was no longer an abstract concept. It was real. She was real. He murmured the word softly, or so he thought. "Hope."

The students glanced up and he realized he'd been heard. He stared around himself for a moment before rising from his chair swiftly. "Class is dismissed. Get out of my sight." He fixed them with the surliest glare he could manage, even as he gripped the little picture tighter in his hand, struck by the strangest urge to go and find Minerva and show off the photograph of his little blob.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N- I had intended to write and post this as part of Update Wednesday, but after 10 hours and over 12,500 words in one day, I gave up the ghost. So I'm gonna take it easier today, and here you guys go!

Oh, and don't expect Update Sunday to be 12,521 words… it RARELY happens that I have 10 hours in a single day to spare. Srsly. On with the show!

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Thirty

* * *

The taste of victory was palpable in the air around him, though he could not taste it on his own tongue. Behind him, the jubilant shouts of Bellatrix Lestrange as she skipped along, the acrid smell of smoke clinging in the air and to his own flesh, none of it seemed real. The instant they crossed the threshold of Malfoy Manor, Severus knew it was the beginning of the end. He was well and truly on his own now, and the guilt that ate at him morphed into a living thing in the pit of his stomach. He had never taken a life. He had known it would be difficult, but not like this. Never like this. He had to fight the urge to vomit.

Bellatrix came to a stop beside him, giving a shrill whoop of joy before she turned. "He says to go away, Severus. Go away and don't come back until you are summoned." Severus drew himself to his full height, his gaze searching hers for any sign of falsehood. Beside him, Draco shuddered, tears gathered in his eyes, and Snape remembered all too well the horror that he'd felt at the first brutal realization that it wasn't a game.

Lucius Malfoy appeared in the doorway. "Is it… Draco?" Severus shook his head minutely and Lucius paled, sagging against the door. "He will be punished…" The cold sadness in the other man's voice was offset by a sound of triumph that echoed down the stairs and into the front hall. It was a gleeful sound and in that moment, he knew the Dark Lord now knew.

Malfoy reached to take Draco's arm, guiding the boy inside. "Severus… you're to leave. For a while. He will call you, when he wishes."

Snape's jaw tightened. "Very well."

He did not prolong the inevitable, but turned and marched somberly back toward the gate, disapparating the instant he was gone. The house was cold, quiet, and as still as the grave. Severus lowered himself to his chair. He made no attempt to light a fire. No attempt to change his clothing. No attempt to scrub the blood from his hands, blood that was visible only to his eyes. His eyes stung, burning, and he didn't even know why. For how long he sat, he did not know. How many hours passed as cold night turned to colder dawn? And still, Severus Snape sat. It was only when the first brushed of sunlight began to illuminate the room that he moved.

The box lay in the bottom of the wardrobe, precisely where he'd placed it the day Dumbledore had presented him with it. Inside lay a bag, a bag he'd never before opened, completely forgotten about. He hesitated for only a moment before opening it. The letter lay inside, but it was not Dumbledore's handwriting on the envelope. Severus reached for it, his hands trembling at the sight of the now-familiar writing. He unfolded the single page within, the words echoing in his mind, as though he heard them audibly.

_The muggle clothes are your size. The Portkey is the blue sneaker. Passport in in the bottom of the bag. Shower. Change clothes. Take the Portkey and come home._

_Sara_

She knew. The tears that had threatened stung at his eyes and he found himself staring at the page before him. Somehow, through his meddlesome, manipulative ways, Dumbledore had arranged this too. Severus carefully avoided the battered blue sneaker, reaching for the muggle clothes, black jeans and a simple dark gray t-shirt and a pair of sturdy brown boots. He clutched the letter something inside his heart quickening again. And for the first time, in hours, it was not the form of Albus Dumbledore falling, dead by his hand, that filled his mind. It was the scent of peppermint and ice blue eyes.

But muggle transport? Were they serious?

Apparently so, as Severus found out a few hours later as he stood rooted to the very spot the Portkey had taken him to. Rather than straight to Sara's home, he was being routed through… Heathrow. Snape narrowed his eyes. It had to be his imagination, but she was getting even with him. She had to be. He clutched the bag, his fingers twitching for his wand that lay safety tucked within. It was crowded, and noisy. And… perfect. He realized in that moment as he stood in the center of the largest crossroads of muggle traffic he'd ever seen, it was perfect. If Potter had talked and he were being followed or tracked, they would be scouring the wizarding world, not the muggle world. He relaxed for the first time in almost twenty four hours. Albus Dumbledore was a genius.

* * *

Sara lifted a hand, gesturing toward the screen behind her. "What is the unique differences between victim one, on the left, and victim two, on the right? Tell me what on cursory visual examination, you might find about each victim, without environmental information to help you draw the conclusion."

The sight of so many blank faces made her sigh, though she bit her tongue and refrained from giving in to the urge to through her laser pointer at the general population. If she didn't have so many student loans left to pay off, she wouldn't have to waste her time on people who simply didn't want to learn. She stared around the room, the heaviness growing outright oppressive as she tapped a hand on the podium before her.

Somewhere movement in the shadows and the sound of a door closing signified the snapping of her temper. "Sit down, Mr. Riley. You are not in the third grade and you can damn well hold it for another ten minutes until my class is finished." It was always Riley. No one else dared to challenge a pregnant woman, especially one with renowned good aim.

She rounded the podium to revert her attention back to the front row, where at least two of her students actually wanted to be there. One hand went up. Sara nodded toward Carly Johnson, a particularly pretty and astonishingly brilliant young student, when compared to her peers at least. "Yes, Miss Johnson."

The young blonde woman hesitated for a moment. "There are a few fibers around victim one's mouth, on the left side. And on victim two there's blood, that could be from hemorrhaging of the sinus cavity."

A dark figure lingering just as the left wall barely out of her line of sight caught her attention. She pushed the presence from her mind, even though her stomach unclenched for the first time all day, and somewhere, she knew, Severus was no longer anxious about something.

She focused her attention on the students once more. "You'll find these pictures on page 98 in your textbook. When we meet again next week, I want three pages, following formatting guidelines from your syllabus, describing the preliminary cause of death of each one, supported by evidence and complete with citations. Late papers will not be accepted… Mr. Riley."

There was a chorus of snickers as she leaned to switch off the projector. "If someone could get the lights for me, please, so I don't have to waddle over there…" The lights flipped on and as she glanced over to thank whichever quick student it had been, the sight of Severus sent her heart into overdrive. His expression was one that was bare with emotion. Fatigue lined his face, a kind of desperation in his eyes and in that moment, Sara knew that whatever horrible thing Dumbledore had predicted, had insisted she make preparations for, had finally happened.

She stood, stock still and silent for so long that even her students began to grow quiet, their indistinct murmurings tapering off to nothingness. Sara drew in a breath as she spoke softly. "Professor Snape."

A glimmer of relief shone in his eyes, and a slightly sardonic smile curled up the corners of his lips as he inclined his head to her. "Professor Snape."

The students were now settling into their seats once more, and she could feel thirty sets of eyes bouncing between her and him. She gestured him forward. "For those who didn't actually believe me when I said I was married to a tall, dark, and handsome British chemistry teacher, this is my husband, Professor Severus Snape."

His ears burned red and embarrassment flushed his face as he made his way toward her, as though he were a predator stalking his prey. The voice of her most notorious repeat offender, Erin Riley, a big-boned and beefy senior who'd taken her class no less than three times, and failed magnificently each time, came from the back of the lecture hall. "Well holy shit."

Sara's gaze flicked toward Severus, only to hear his voice lift in response to young man. He intoned the words with the menace that she knew he employed to such great effect with his own students. "Language." He clucked his tongue and there was a ripple of snickers. Severus came to a stop beside her, his head lowering as he murmured the words softly. "I need you."

Her heart froze and the sadness in his eyes, that unfurled in his gut and hit her like a punch, settling as a solid weight over her chest, damn near proved her undoing. She glanced back to the too-eager students who should rightly be terrified. "Mr. Riley, I suggest watching your tone in front of Professor Snape. He's been known to inspire tears in his own classroom just from his acid tongue alone. He'll be joining me for the remainder of the semester as an adjunct in my other class, so you will no doubt become familiar with his methods quickly."

Surprise registered on Severus's face, but he did not argue. Instead he seemed to summon his own brand of humor as he folded his hands behind himself and rounded her desk. Despite the dark jeans, and the casual gray t-shirt he wore beneath a black blazer, he exuded as much power as he did in the hallways of Hogwarts. His tone dripped with authority as black eyes nailed Erin Riley with the same scathing glare she had been on the end of more than once. "Were you a student of mine, Mr. Riley, I can assure you that you would be expelled from this institution for daring to address your Professor in such crass terms. However, be grateful that my wife has a more lenient approach than I and as such my authority here is limited. Now if the lot at you are finished harassing my poor wife, get out."

There were a few seconds of silence, and Sara could have sworn she heard a cricket. In the next second though, it was a stampede as the thirty-odd undergrads scrambled for the door. It wasn't until the door had closed behind the last one that Sara finally broke into gales of laughter. "I can't believe you did that. How did you do that? I've never seen him look so scared." She glanced around the empty room and pushed her books into her backpack, letting it dangle from her fingers. The second she saw his face again, she knew her words were misplaced. Whatever authority he'd managed to summon long enough to shoo away her students had cracked.

She came to a stop before him, one hand lifting to rest against his face. To her astonishment he didn't pull away as he ordinarily might have. Instead, slowly, his hand rose to cover hers, and his head turned, lips pressing to her palm before he let his eyes fall closed. Anxiety rose inside her once more. She laced her fingers through his and tugged lightly, her voice softening, sobered with worry. "Come, let me stop by my office and grab my bag. I'm on call this evening but I only have to go in if there's some kind of emergency that Hank can't handle."

His eyes slid open for a moment, his gaze dropping to her belly. For a moment she stood there, self-consciously, on the verge of drawing away. The unreadable expression that lay in his eyes brought a sadness to her chest, as if it were her own. "Is she…" He trailed off into silence, his free hand hovering just over her abdomen, hesitantly.

"Strong. Healthy. And a budding gymnast." She offered him a reassuring smile as she gripped his wrist and brought his hand to rest over the place where the child she carried lay.

In that moment, relief filtered into his eyes and his voice was still soft. "I had worried that you might not… want to…"

Sara understood instantly what he was saying. She stared up at him, fighting for the words before settling on a smile. "Hey. Listen to me." Obediently, his eyes lifted to her face, his thumb stroking over her stomach lightly, gently, as if she might break at too hard a touch. "One moment at a time, Severus, one worry, one heartache. But this, her, us… all of that… it's immutable. And no matter what, somehow, I swear it's going to be all right. Now, get your head out of your ass and stop angsting. I'm hungry."

To her surprise, his eyes flickered to life once more, losing the shadows that seemed to haunt him for a moment. His hand slipped away and into her own, letting her lead him from the classroom.


	31. Chapter 31

A/N- Have you ever had to mow a lawn with hedge clippers? If so, then you might understand why my chapters are coming a bit slowly today. If not… then thank god you're not married to my husband, who is, as of yesterday, fired from yardwork ever again.

A flashback chapter, shedding a little light on Sara.

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Thirty One

* * *

Severus slept. Sara watched. He barely spoken a word during dinner, and promptly fallen into bed as soon as she'd directed him upstairs and toward her bedroom. He'd made not so much as a single snarky remark about the lavender quilt or the lace curtains, but instead settled himself under it with a muttered 'thank you' and passed out almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow. A few minutes later, the dishes done and Roger out for the night, she had snuck up the stairs and settled herself into the armchair by the window, curling up awkwardly, and opening the novel she'd been reading. However, instead of reading, she'd found herself staring at him as he slept. And as she stared, she was once more surprised to find how he transformed in his sleep, as if the tension eased off of him, leaving him decades younger, the lines of his face easing out, his fingers curling loosely, flung out on the bed beside him as though reaching for something or someone, his thumb twitching every once in a while. His wand lay on the nightstand beside him in easy reach and he was naked to the waist, the quilt having dipped as he'd turned.

He was, without doubt, as attractive to her now as he'd been at first sight. Only now, there was no terror. She had long since stopped fearing him, though precisely when she'd begun to love him, she couldn't place her finger on. Sara drew in a breath and propped her feet into the ottoman, listening to the steady sound of his breathing, letting her eyes fall closed as the memories began to close in.

* * *

Sara pushed a stray hair from her eyes as she stared into the mirror. She looked ridiculous and felt even worse. Mrs. Potts bustled around her, tucking another bobby pin into her hair securely. Her foster mother was one of the most generous people she knew, but was also a diehard romantic without a single clue as to how the world worked outside of Gunther's Hollow, Kentucky. Sara clenched her teeth and fought back the urge to vomit as she offered the older woman a smile. Mrs. Potts muttered something about the time before disappearing out the door, her eyes shining with what looked suspiciously like unshed tears.

The second she was gone, Sara turned to her reflection once more. She looked like a bride. It was horrifying. In that one single second she feared for her very existence. Methodically she lifted a hand, gently plucking the roses from her hair and setting them aside. The dress was horrendous and the last thing she wanted was to make a further mockery of what she was doing. The soft knock at the door came unexpectedly and she half-turned as it opened. To her unending shock, it was him.

Sara sucked in a breath, hit once more by the sheer size of the man who was to take the place of the other who'd come looking for her, and in that moment, she didn't know who was more frightening. Her face reddened as he slipped inside and pushed the door closed, engaging the lock. "We should speak, Miss Creech, before we go any further."

She ground her teeth, not even attempting to summon a smile as she dropped the bobby pins onto the dressing table and reached for a brush. Silence reigned as she worked the brush through the locks that felt as if bore enough hairspray to do a pageant mom proud. She caught sight of his reflection as he stared at her and in the moment she knew she was being measured. His eyes were cold, calculating. She turned for her bag, rummaging in it for a moment before coming up with the simple blue dress that she had managed to smuggle in, having suspected that her foster mother would spring something like the stark white lace abomination on her. She disappeared behind the screen, breaking her silence for the first time, now that she was shielded from those eyes that seemed to see too much. "If you wish, Sir."

She began to work at the rows of buttons that held the dress into place, ripping it down and tossing it over the privacy screen before drawing the blue one down, more to her tastes. His voice was smooth, almost as silk. "Once the contract is signed, as I understand it, you function within my wishes. Is that accurate?"

Sara tried not to notice his voice. It struck her deep in the belly, unbidden curiosity flourishing there and she gripped the back of the chair as she considered her options. Impatiently, his voice came again. "I require an answer, Miss Creech."

She opened her mouth, and no sound came out. She drew in a breath and stepped from behind the screen to face him once more. "That's correct. As long as your orders don't countermand the law, I am obliged to obey, per the contract itself."

He stood there, in the center of the room and for a moment she thought she saw obsidian eyes flicker with something akin to interest, or perhaps it was merely understanding. He folded his hands before himself. "Is that what you're planning to wear?"

Sara lowered her eyes for a moment toward the somber black teaching robes he still wore, then wordlessly cocked a brow. His gaze hardened marginally, as did his voice. "I require an answer."

Sara's jaw tightened as she nodded. "I prefer not to wear white as if this were a love match and we were well-suited. I know you're only doing this because Dumbledore asked it of you, and I won't make a mockery of what I'm depriving you of by pretending it's a celebration when it's not."

His expression shifted, his calm seemingly disrupted for a moment. "Elaborate." It was a command as surely as if the contract were already signed and Sara, oddly, found herself compelled to obey.

She pulled her hair over one shoulder and began to braid it swiftly as she turned toward the mirror. "The bond is for life. I know damn well what it means to bind yourself to someone you don't feel anything for. I know that by doing this, you're saddling yourself with someone you don't know well enough to like or dislike. I know that when this is done, you won't have a chance to take a wife, or even a lover, that you do want to be with. I know that you can't set me aside fully without causing damage and that it, and I, will be a burden to you. I know that you made this choice based on what Dumbledore told you, asked of you, and that I'm not… wanted."

To his credit, he didn't try to temper her expectations with false platitudes. When he spoke again, his voice had hardened marginally. "That is all true. However there is no reason why this has to disrupt either of our lives. Adhere to what I require and I will not interfere in your life or your studies."

Sara tied off the end of the braid of with hairband, pushing it over her shoulder as she stared at the reflection of the man that Dumbledore swore would never cause her harm. He lifted his head, catching her eyes in his as he spoke once more. "Come here, Kelsalis."

She expelled a breath, audible and resigned as she turned to approach him. When she neared, she found herself looking up into his eyes, startled to find they were truly black. Not dark brown, but a deep obsidian that held a world of shrewdness and intelligence. His hand lifted to grip her chin as he studied her face without speaking. "You are not wanted. You are a burden and an impediment to my goals. I have no need for a wife, glorified sex slave or not."

Her face flushed hotly and she stepped away from him, wincing at the term. His hand gripped her shoulder as he hissed the words at her. "When I require your full attention, you will give it to me. You will not pull away, you will not draw back. Regardless of whether I exert my rights or not, in less than an hour's time, you will belong to me, and that, my dear, is something you will respect. Do I make myself clear, girl?"

She found herself drawn forcibly closer to him once more and she steeled herself against the tears that threatened. "Crystal." She didn't recognize her own voice and in that moment, she wondered if she'd made the wrong decision.

He kept a grip on her shoulder, his voice losing that edge, the silken drawl that he spoke with infecting her to her core, crawling beneath her skin and insinuating itself into the very fiber of her being. "Unquestioning obedience. It is what I require above all."

Sara inhaled sharply, something inside her dying at those words. "You promised you wouldn't hurt me."

"And I won't." Annoyance rang in his voice, clear and concise. "I keep my word, as I will require you keep yours. They have examined you and reported to me that you are still… pure." There was a predatory edge to his voice, a smug satisfaction that she had never thought to hear directed at her, as if he were pleased to find his possession was in good working order. She did not answer, but rather remained silent, waiting. He continued a moment later. "You will remain that way until I see fit to change it. I choose not to make use of your body, Kelsalis, for now. And you will remember, my displeasure can be so much harder to bear than anything you have ever experienced. Break the vow you take to me today, and I will ensure that you are rendered so very repugnant that no man will ever want to touch you again."

His nose was almost to hers and something inside her unfurled. He was staking a claim, however crass and crude his words were, he was declaring her his, as surely as any man might. She trembled, her eyes averting from his face as she pushed out the words. "I have no interest in disrupting your life."

"That is not what I said. Say the words, will adhere to your vows to me. I want to hear them from your lips, between us now, before we sign that register and listen to stupid words about insipid love that have nothing to do with reality." There was something in his voice that drew her eyes back to his face.

She stared at him for a moment, unsure what drove her. She rose to her toes, her lips brushing lightly over his cheek as she murmured the words almost inaudibly. "I will not do anything, Mr. Snape, which would reflect badly on you, your name, or what you are doing for me."

His fingers gripped her arm so tightly, she knew without a doubt that bruises would arise and somewhere inside her, anticipation unfurled. He didn't want her, she knew it. But something inside her stirred on an instinctive level. She spoke softly once more. "I will never defy you."

It seemed to satisfy him and he released her slowly, allowing her to take a step back. His voice was low, as if her words had disturbed him deeply. "I trust you have read the contract and my own terms?"

She could quote them by heart. And she did. "Seven weeks, each summer, spent at your home, to maintain the bond. One letter each quarter outlining the state of my health and financial expenditures addressed to you discretely through Professor Dumbledore. No male company in my home. No magic outside of your presence."

He lifted a brow, waiting in silence. She continued, her eyes flicking toward the toes of his polished shoes. "Modesty in dress. Consistent reports from a health care practitioner to be forward to you annually."

"What else, girl. There was one more." His lips curled into a predatory sneer and in that moment, Sara felt about two inches tall.

It was the one thing on his list that had touched on anything remotely sexual. Her face burned as she let her eyes flick to his face, barely able to give voice to the words. "The Kelsalis's pleasure comes solely at the hands of her Kel." Sara narrowed her eyes on him thoughtfully as she toyed with one of the cuffs of the dress she wore. "Why? Why require that?"

His sneer turned into a feral smirk as his hand lifted, cupping her cheek gently, a mockery of a lover's caress. "You object?"

"Not object, precisely." His touch was warm, despite the coldness in her voice, lulling her into a false sense of security. She spoke hesitantly. "I just have to wonder what it matters to you if you don't intend, like you said, to indulge… in that."

His fingers slipped to her throat, flexing lightly and for a moment she thought he might kiss her, his breath warm over her lips. His words though, were like ice as they ripped down her spine, bringing a new level of misery to her. "I'm to be saddled with a woman I do not want. Call it… punishment, girl. For being born the pathetic creature you are. After all… you make the choice this day, to become my property, Kelsalis. Do not expect me to ever view you as anything more than that."

With that he released her abruptly and stepped away. It was not until the door closed softly behind him once more than she bowed her head and sank onto the chair. His acid tongue had made its mark, and in that moment, she had found out exactly just what he was made of. Something had driven him to cruelty. She didn't cry, instead, Sara found herself staring at the door he'd disappeared through, her lips curving into a smile. He was transparently cruel. That she could handle. Seven weeks per year, and in return, forty five weeks of freedom. He was not a nice man, but he at least… gave her freedom. However as she stared at the door, unmoving, for the first time in her life, she was forced to wonder if she really wanted it now.


	32. Chapter 32

A/N- I am, in general, very prompt about updates, usually churning out at least a chapter every day, with far more on update days. Most of the time, there is no missing a deadline, however I must plead real life in the case of these last 5 days. My father passed away Saturday morning after a long and wearying battle with colon cancer and I had to go home to be with my family to take care of more pressing matters than writing. However, today the haze has abated enough to permit me to begin again. Bear with me, faithful Snape fans, and I promise, it will be worth the two missed update days.

In other news, I have determined a new story to follow after this one. Indeed, it is a Snape/OC, as I am turning into such a fan of. Different than this one, of course, planned to be more humorous and an exploration of Snape's redemption, rather than an exploration of his grieving process, which is what this one was aimed toward.

Thank you again, for your patience. And folks… call your dad and tell him you love him. Seriously. Go do that now.

Kisses, Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Thirty Two

* * *

The sound of fluid cursing woke him from a dead sleep. Severus reached automatically for his wand from the nightstand beside the bed and bolted upright, eyes wide, body tense, staring around the strange room in bewilderment. A second later, he relaxed as he realized where he was, and why he was where he was. The wave of sickness that washed over him was palpable and raw, like acid settling on his tongue. Albus was dead. The fate of the wizarding world rested on the shoulders of the world's most arrogant lad that Snape had ever met. No, check that, the second more arrogant lad Snape had ever met.

A string of curse words that would make a sailor blush with shame floated up the stairs. Severus rose from the bed, glancing toward the window. It was dark out. He'd slept the entire day away, it seemed. A frown marred his features as he padded barefoot to the door, though silence wasn't on the agenda, the scarred wooden floorboards of the old house popping and protesting his weight with each step. He paused in the door, cocking his head as he listened to Sara, her voice lifting in frustration. "No, Jordan. You are not going to fill out any forms or sign any paperwork on the Bronson autopsy. It's a capital case and the last thing I need is to have to explain to Hank that I let you screw up and lose the prosecution's case for them."

Severus frowned faintly, creeping down the stairs. He stopped once more, the sight of his wife pacing the length of the tiny kitchen and dining room captivating him. She was breathtaking and his heart caught in his chest. Instantly, his body responded despite his state. He lowered himself to take a seat on the stairs. She rounded the dining room table, which was covered in muggle file folders and open books and a cup of coffee with steam rising from it. Severus stiffened for a moment. Why was she drinking coffee? That was a nono, wasn't it? Concern colored his eyes as her words filtered toward him again.

"Jordan, you are unlicensed. There is no loophole. If I find so much as a stray J on a single piece of paperwork where it doesn't go, you will find yourself locked in the walk-in with the seven John Doe corpses I have in there right now, I swear to God." She paused for a moment, seeming not even to note his presence, her voice rising. "Oh for fuck's sake, why would you tell the prosecutor anything? You're the goddamn deiner. You do the heavy lifting. You don't get to tell anyone anything, least of all give the prosecutor who shouldn't even BE in autopsy anyway, access to the body before I finish processing it! I swear, you're the most incompetent peabrain sometimes."

Severus fought back a smile, glad for the distraction of watching her. If he focused on her, maybe the reason he was here might fade away, maybe the green tinge that surrounded his very awareness would abate like the mist kissing the morning sun and melting away. Her irritation rose in his chest, though oddly, it was her very presence that soothed him. She marched purposefully to the table, flipping through the files. "Yes, Jordan. You are an idiot. Call the prosecutor… no, no, I'll do it. I'll take care of it tomorrow." She flipped open one of the files, setting the others in the stack aside. "Yeah, I have it in front of me. C9. Yes, you do that." She paused once more, catching sight of Severus, a faint blush tinging her cheeks as she gave him a sheepish smile. He winked at her before he could stop himself, then felt his ears burn, wondering just where that had come from.

Sara meandered back into the kitchen once more, and out of sight. Curiosity drew Severus to the table. It was a fair size, fully capable of holding a half dozen people with room to spare. The surface was covered in what could only be termed organized chaos. He leaned over to study the documents, only to find autopsy reports, court records bearing her signature, and various volumes propped open. It was, apparently, her makeshift desk. Something warm unfurled in his chest, his head lifting as she pushed a cup of coffee into his hands. "No, Jordan. Not tonight. No. I'm on call. No, God you're thick. Just take care of it and do not let anyone without a badge into the damn morgue." With that she pulled the mobile from where it was tucked between her shoulder and her ear, holding it properly once more as she propped a hand on her hip. "I'm hanging up now and if you call me with another screw up before the sun rises, I'm going to personally come and put you in the morgue, and yes, Jordan, I mean _in_ the morgue." With that she disconnected the call and tossed the phone onto the table here it landed with a resounding thunk atop a teetering pile of files.

Severus cocked a brow. "Dare I ask?" He glanced at the coffee in his hands, black and strong and freshly brewed from the smell of it. The woman forgot nothing.

Sara pushed her braided hair over her shoulder, eyeing him for a moment. "Just the usual. My deiner took it upon himself to give the county prosecutor access to view a body before the final report can be finished."

He considered this a moment, and to his surprise, found himself genuinely curious, and grateful for the distraction. "I gather that's bad."

She lowered herself into a chair and nodded. "If protocol isn't followed, the defense can filed a motion to dismiss the charges based on breech of procedure. So yes, that's bad. Especially when you're dealing with homicide and found a half-kilo of heroin inside the victim's body."

Severus paused for a moment. "I beg your pardon?" He felt himself paling, not really sure he wanted to know.

Ice blue eyes reflected amusement for a moment. "It was a homicide related to a smuggling … incident. The victim was illegally transporting heroin in a more… creative way. Apparently made it through security just fine, but the goods didn't arrive, shall we say, in a timely manner. And so the alleged killer decided to retrieve them. I must say, it was a very unique approach. I've seen some interesting things, but it's my first machete up the ass."

He choked, barely managing to keep himself from spewing coffee all over the neat piles of papers in front of him. "You mean…" He wrinkled his nose and for a moment, the haze of exhaustion lifted.

She snorted lightly. "Grain of salt, my Kel. People do horrible things, and sometimes, you just have to detach."

Her words brought it home again and suddenly the inkling of laughter he'd barely held back was gone. He stared at her for a moment before lowering into the chair beside her, speaking flatly. "I killed Dumbledore."

Sara showed no visible reaction, and to his astonishment, there was no recrimination in her eyes. "I know."

His head jerked up, his eyes seeking out hers, staring at her as he tried to find something, anything, to cling to there, something that would confirm her hatred of him. Instead of pity, or anger, only a resignation tinged her expression. "Explain." He forced the word out in a ragged whisper, the fatigue and exhaustion of the last months pushing everything far too close to the surface.

"He told me." She spoke the words gently and leaned forward, reaching for her own cup. "Well, not in so many words. He told me to prepare for your arrival, gave me a list of particular things to take care of, and I did. And then, a few weeks ago, I got a letter. It disclosed a particular vow you'd taken and why you'd done it. I think… he was trying to make it easier."

Severus stared at her, his eyes locked to hers. She appeared unfazed, save for an edge of sadness that lingered in her gaze. Her voice was firm, something he rarely associated with his Kelsalis. She scooted to the edge of her chair, the movement drawing her blouse more snugly across her burgeoning belly. "Listen to me, Severus Snape. And listen well."

His shoulders squared, the words sparking something in him, stirring something to life once more. He remained silent, waiting for her to continue. She did so without hesitation. "We aren't in Spinner's End. This place, it's my home, it's your home. And in this place, there is only you and me, and the rest of the world can go hang, and that includes that crazy old man. Yes, you did what had to be done, and no, it was not what anyone in their right mind should have asked of you. But you, Severus, will not bring the attitude of brooding jackass from Spinner's End to here. And if you dare, even one time, to try to tell me how to fold my towels or to line up the hems of the curtains just so and tuck the toes of your socks under when I do your laundry… I will hex your hair purple. Don't think I won't do it."

Surprise rolled through him, and for a moment, it felt as if the weight of the world had lifted. Her expression softened as she went on. "You are here to relax and to regroup. Something worse is coming. I don't know what it is, and I won't press you on it. But for now, whether you're here a day or a year, you're going to drop the bullshit of domineering Hogwart's professor and just be my Severus." The cheek of her words was undeniable, and his reaction to the provocation was instant, and hot. He wanted to smack the smirk off of her face. He wanted to grab her and shake her. He wanted… to pushed the clutter off the top of her kitchen table and fuck the living shit out of her.

He stared at her silently for a moment as he wrapped both hands around the mug in his grip. "I will never cease to be a domineering man. You know that. But, I will grant you this much…" Her eyes bore into his and damned if he didn't want to kiss her and see how long it took for those lush lips to swell in testament to her very body being his. The arousal mingling with the acuteness of his self-disgust of what he'd done… it was an odd sensation to say the least. His voice softened, against his own will. "Sara, wherever I go, whatever happens, when I am with you, I could never be anyone else."

It was in that moment, he knew something had changed, something had fundamentally shifted his world on its ear. It wasn't that he'd killed Albus. This was something that struck him to his core and set him into a tailspin. For however long he had, and he suspected it was not long, he was getting exactly what he wanted.

Sara, and his child, and the little house in the middle of muggleland had never sounded so good. For just a little while, Severus Snape was seizing the chance to have the rare taste of the normalcy his entire adult life had been devoid of. And he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, it wasn't real, but damn if he wasn't going to make it as real as he could. The darkness that lay waiting for him, that crept in on him and his entire world, could maybe, just maybe, be kept at bay for a few precious days. He drew in a breath, exhaling heavily as he lifted his eyes to her once more. "I think I'd like to try some Mexican food."


	33. Chapter 33

A/N- Sliding on into the last bit, thought the ever-expanding word count appears that it will finish off about 95-100,000 now. We'll see how it goes. The first chapter of the next story is already written, tentatively entitled The Sound of Silence. I'll get the first chapter up this evening as a teaser, but expect those chapters to come slowly as I want to finish this one before launching headlong into another.

Kisses,

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Thirty three

* * *

Almost a week later, Sara found herself hovering over the couch as she watched him sleep. He seemed to be somehow making up for lost time. She left for work, and he was asleep, she came home from work and he was asleep. If she didn't know better, she'd swear the man had developed a symbiotic relationship with her sofa. He was curled in what had to be the most uncomfortable position she'd ever seen a man sleep in. On his stomach, one arm flung off the side of the couch to dangle onto the floor, the other propped awkwardly over the arm. One long leg was flung over the back, propped up at the knee and braced against the cushions, the other disappeared somewhere beneath the duvet he'd hauled down from the bed upstairs. On the floor was the evidence of how he'd spent his hours alone, piles and piles of books littering everywhere within arm's reach.

Sara crept nearer to the couch to get a closer look. Apparently he liked sci-fi. "Hm. Who knew?" She The TV was silent, but the cover of her boxed set of Stargate SG-1 season four peeked out from beneath a Patricia Cornwell novel. From the looks of it, he was halfway through her collection of Kay Scarpetta stories. She stifled a snicker as she reached for the plate that contained the last remains of the Chinese takeout she'd brought home the night before and his coffee cup, moving toward the kitchen to start cleaning.

The last week had been so blissfully normal, it almost hurt. The shades of happiness that tinged her daily life brought her a newfound peace. The ache in his chest that was so acute in the first few days were abating, though never fading entirely, and his loneliness seemed to eased off as well. Once in a while, she even caught a smile creeping up on him.

Her brow furrowed as the baby shifted, working on her somersault routine and shoving a foot into her ribs. Sara braced herself on the sink and waited for the flutter to pass before drawing in a breath. From the living room, she heard a sharp curse. In the next moment, Severus's voice came from the doorway. "What do you keep doing to yourself, Woman, that makes your ribs hurt that bad?"

She lifted her head, cocking it to the side before realizing what he spoke of, breaking into a smile. "I can't believe you can feel that. That's… really weird." Sara's eyes danced as she watched his scowl deepen. He lifted his hands over his head, yawning as he stretched, though his voice laced with something that betrayed he was distinctly unamused. "Whatever it is, stop doing it. My ribs feel like I've been in a fight with that little Chinese muggle from your movies."

"I see you found my Jackie Chan stash." She stifled a grin as she watched him. "Relax, Severus, I can't help it. Give it a few months, it'll pass."

"Months?" He stared at her blankly. Understanding dawned in his eyes as his gaze dropped to her belly. "Oh. It's… her."

"Mmm." She hummed the words as she turned back to the sink once more. Sara was, however, all too aware of his nearness as he stepped behind her, his hand coming to tentatively brush over her expanding girth.

Severus's voice was gentle, something akin to awe in it. "I still have trouble making it all fit together. There's so much I don't understand. So much I don't know how to say." The admission was soft, his fingers flexing over her belly. Inside her, the baby kicked against his hand. Sara glanced up for a moment, finding his expression pensive. "I felt that. She's… active." There was something almost hopeful in his eyes before his hand dropped away, his voice flat. "I'm going to miss her birth."

A sharp breath was drawn in as she steeled herself against the words. "I know." Sara turned back toward the sink once more, plunging her hands into the dishwater. "I know, but it's not something that can be helped. Dumbledore told me this is a war, and I know you well enough that you won't let me near it, no matter how I want to be."

"You're right." His words were still, unexpectedly gentle. "There is precious little in this world which brings me comfort, and you and Hope will not be allowed near any of that crap until it's resolved. However it ends, and it will end soon, I won't have you or her in danger."

His words lanced through her, sending her heart into overdrive. The one word burgeoned in her chest as she paused in her washing of a plate. "Hope?" Sara's eyes lifted to him quizzically.

He paled for a moment, then drew himself up to his full height, as though expecting her to argue. "It's apt, is it not? I won't permit you to inflict an awful name on the poor thing. Not like… Severus. Or worse Jane or Mary of something equally plain." He paused for a moment, his expression unreadable as he folded his arms over his chest. "We haven't talked about the entire situation much, but that doesn't mean I have forgotten. I needed to call it something, otherwise she'd be called an 'it' and that's almost as bad as being called… Karen. Or something else that vile."

Sara fought back amusement as she cleared her throat. "Severus, you're babbling. Hope is a good name. I like it." She gave a gentle smile as she rinsed the last of the dishes. "It's a good, strong name. And no matter what, no matter how long it takes… you'll always have Hope. So maybe it's more apt than you think."

She wiped her hands on a towel, tossing it on the counter. "Now, I need to venture forth into the world to get some groceries or you're going to be eating potato chips and salsa for dinner."

Severus watched her for a moment longer, then relaxed. He nodded and turned for the doorway. "I'll just go and get showered and come with you. I don't want you lifting those heavy bags on your own. Or pushing the trolley either."

"You'd wrap me in bubble wrap if you could. Just go." She shook her head as she moved toward the dining room where her shopping list sat. It was wonderful, but for some reason that she couldn't put her finger on, domesticated Severus Snape just felt… weird.

* * *

Severus stared at his arm, the mark curiously quiet. It had been three weeks since he'd turned up on Sara's doorstep. Three weeks of rest and oddly, actually relaxing. It was a respite, however brief, from the reality of what lay ahead. He frowned as he listened to the bustling of his wife in the kitchen. Whatever she was cooking smelled delicious and his stomach growled in response.

It had been an odd three weeks, so domesticate it would normally have made him ill, but strangely, it was satisfying, comforting, to lie in bed with her by his side. His hand more often than not found its way to the swell of her belly as she slept, and the baby inside would fight against the gentle pressure of his hand, giving sound kicks against his palm. More than once, he'd woken a grumpy woman beside him by inadvertently poking too hard in his efforts to provoke movement from the little creature inside her. It was one of the most fascinating things he'd ever encountered in his life, and made no less profound by the mere knowledge that he had created life.

It tore at him, knowing that someday, very soon, he would have to go and finish what had been started almost twenty years before. Alone and without them. It created an unexpected, physical ache and Severus found himself rising to his feet, padding barefoot toward the kitchen, where he found his Kelsalis hovering over the stove. She glanced up and offered him a smile, and he stared.

In that moment he knew exactly what he wanted his life to be. He knew what he wanted to see every day for the rest of whatever time was granted to him. Foolishly, the words popped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "It will be dangerous, Sara. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something happened to you, or to her." Why was he saying this? It wasn't the right thing to do. Sara peered at him, her face flushing as she held the spatula. He drew in a breath and tried again. "It's no place for a newborn who can't even summon a defensive shield on instinct yet. Her magic won't be that strong for years."

Sara remained silent, her head lowering as she returned her gaze to the skillet before her. The pulsing in his arm began, a slow itch that would, slowly, become a burning. "What do you do to me, that you make me willing to risk your life, our child's life, and my own, that I'm even considering this?"

She froze then, as she realized what he was saying. He moved closer to her, silently and switched off the burner on her stove. She remained still as he spoke again. "It's time. And if you do this, if I allow this, and I mention that I do this against every instinct I have… you must understand why I will reinstitute rule number one."

Blue eyes lifted to meet his, and there he saw fear, apprehension, relief. He didn't even try to stop himself as he brushed a kiss over her forehead. "Pack quickly, Sara. I'll … clean this up while you do."

She didn't question him, and for a moment he felt the guilt that consumed him, the selfishness of what he did. He was ripping her, a pregnant woman, from her safe world where she was untouchable by the forces of darkness, taking her and their unborn child from where they would be safe. He was selfishly seizing his own happiness at unknown cost, and to Severus Snape, in that moment, he was no better than Voldemort.


	34. Chapter 34

A/N- Sliding into the homestretch. I'd like to throw out some acknowledgements at this point. Look for the first chapter of the highly experimental "The Sound of Silence" to be posted concurrent with this one.

To the lovely Winkie, you've been my longest and most steadfast support in this story. Thank you, my friend.

Tara Cytherea – Thank you for the honest feedback. I hope I've done justice to your expectations. The rest of the story will be just as intense, on that you have my word.

Without further ado, on with the story.

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Thirty Four

* * *

Severus stared into the cradle, frozen in place for the past fifteen minutes, perhaps more by his internal clock. The baby that lay within slept peacefully, though never for more than a couple of hours at a stretch. He shifted on his crouched feet, staring in open wonder, making no effort to hide his face from view as he saw, once more, the same face that had haunted him for months before after touching the cradle for the first time in the shop.

She was everything he'd seen and more. Thick black hair that stuck out in every conceivable direction, blue eyes so clear that even Poppy had commented how unusual they were for a newborn. It was as if she'd been born seeing more than any newborn had a right to see. Her nose was a tiny replica of his own, right down to the hook that he'd been teased for his entire life. Snape's fingers itched to reach out and trace the line of her nose. Never before had he seen his own face reflected in any human being, save for his mother.

His stomach pitched, rolling and clenching with some emotion he couldn't name. Hope Eileen Snape had entered the world almost a month too early, kicking and screaming in protest of being evicted from the warm cocoon that had protected her from the harshness that lay ahead. She was perfect in every way, except perhaps for her nose, but Severus was quite willing to forgive her that, given that she crinkled it exactly like her mother just before a fit was coming.

He knew precious little about babies, but he'd learned quickly that a six pound person needed approximately five hundred pounds of crap to sustain it properly and was more demanding than any of the insipid teenagers in his near two decades of teaching ever had been. Hope stirred in her sleep, as though conscious that he'd been staring. Snape's expression shifted, his brow furrowing as he glanced toward Sara, who was sleeping peacefully for the first time in the week since their daughter had been born. His gaze flicked back to the cradle, finding himself face to face with the ice blue eyes that had caught his heart within his chest from the first sight, and now he wondered if his lungs would ever unclench. The sheen of tears rose as she wrinkled her nose in that way that signaled a cry was coming.

He rose swiftly from his place where he'd crouched, tentatively ducking his hands into the cradle to lift her free and padding out of the bedroom just in time for the first shriek. He closed the door behind him and made his way toward the tiny kitchen that served in the headmaster's quarters. Clumsily, he tucked her in the crook of his arm as he fumbled with the contraption that he'd come to despise, yet grown oddly fond of. A muggle style bottle warmer that Sara had cleverly charmed, he hadn't asked how and frankly didn't care, but now was his lifesaver. The glass bottle of breastmilk was popped into it as he gave a diffident bounce to the child in his grasp.

Hope was having none of it though, but he wanted, desperately, at least once to get something right without waking Sara, who hadn't slept more than four hours at a stretch. Severus lowered his eyes to peer at her once more, the pad of his thumb brushing away the first mournful tear that leaked, mustering his sternest voice, the one he used to address unruly first years. "Miss Snape, you must lower your voice, some of us have to work in the morning and your mum would appreciate a full night's sleep, so please, do restrain yourself."

She hiccupped softly and, amazingly, the shrieks subsided. He frowned faintly down at her. "Is that really all it takes? You daft mother complains it's difficult. We must talk to her about how she exaggerates." The bottle warmer gave a low beep and Severus deftly plucked the container from it, moving toward the gaudy purple velvet sofa he'd not seen any point in replacing.

The baby's lips parted, her tongue peeking out as the nipple was duly popped between her lips. He lowered himself onto the sofa, the baby cradled close to his chest as Poppy had showed him, nestled snugly against the soft cotton of his nightshirt. He watched as she drank, and for a moment, wondered how anyone could think to harm a creature who was so untainted.

It was a thought that had crossed his mind more than once over the past week, since his firstborn had made her way into the world, caterwauling , pissed off and purple. He would be the first to admit, she'd stunned him in those first few moments with just how ugly she'd been. She was entirely the wrong color, her screams were worse than a banshee and she was jerking lanky limbs in any direction she could, groping for something he could only guess at. He'd had the misfortune to remark on it, stupidly, in the presence of Madam Pomfrey, and found himself, for the first time in his life, on the receiving end of being smacked on the back of the head by a female. It had been disconcerting.

He was now, however, quite happy to see that she was a normal, healthy pink, and her head was almost round. He'd been aghast to see the frightening cone shape and had briefly wondered from which side of the family she'd been cursed with a head shape that made the sorting hat look round. That one had earned him a second pop on the head, this one from Minerva. He'd never witnessed the birth of a child before, how the bloody hell was he supposed to know it was normal for a child to be born lumpy and purple?

He caught himself staring down at her again, his expression softening as he shifted her upward in his arms, propping her a bit higher as he reached for the battered copy of Jigger's Potion Oposcule and propped it on the arm of the sofa, flipping to the page where he'd left off. He kept his voice low as he began. "Now, where were we, my dear? Aconite, was it?" Severus glanced toward her as she worked on the bottle he propped awkwardly on his chest, running his other hand down the page before tapping the place he'd stopped reading to her. "Aconitum variegatum belongs to the family Ranunculaceae and is also known by the common names of aconite, monkshood, wolf's bane, leopard's bane, women's bane, Devil's helmet or blue rocket."

* * *

Sara woke sharply, her internal alarm going off, telling her instinctively that something was wrong. Panic edged in as she looked toward the other side of the bed, and found him gone, a quick glance to Hope's cradle told her it too, was empty. She reached for her robe, slipping it on, and tying it hastily before grabbing for her wand. Her nerves were frayed and on end.

She pulled open the door from the bedroom, stopping in her tracks as she saw nothing untoward, only the sight of her Kel asleep on the couch. A moment later, she broke into a grin and wished she had a camera. His bare feet were propped on the arm of the couch, stretched out awkwardly. Hope was swaddled securely to his chest, a resounding snore coming from both identical, generously formed noses. A copy of a first year's potion text lay open and discarded on the floor, evidently having slipped from his grip.

She stifled a laugh as she padded toward the pair, reaching for the book to lift it, peering toward the page as she read the words aloud softly. "Asphodeline lutea belongs to the family Xanthorrhoeaceae." Sara reached for the scrap of parchment discarded on the table and marked the page before placing it carefully on the end table and turning to make her way toward the miniscule kitchen. "At least we know her education won't be lacking."

She had just poured her first cup of coffee when the knock came. Sara glanced back toward the couch, her eyes lighting on Severus's prone form. She hated answering the door. It was an infringement on her only haven in the castle, especially with those people. With luck, it would be Poppy, come to check in on Hope, as she'd promised to do this morning. However, at first glance, she knew with a sinking heart just what was about to happen. She hated this part. Alecto Carrow stood on the other side of the door. Her hardened eyes glittered as she took in Sara's unkempt appearance. "The Headmaster's presence is required in the Hall." At least the woman had the courtesy not to thrust pleasantries on her.

Sara considered, for a moment, telling the woman to fuck off and slamming the door closed. Instead, she pasted on the vacant smile that she knew was expected of her, bowed her head meekly and took a step back. "Please wait here, I'll see if he is finished with breakfast." The woman gave a brief nod as Sara closed the door quietly and drew her wand, casting a silencing charm. It would at least ensure her privacy. She didn't pause to watch the scene before her, of Severus's hand resting securely on the tiny blanket wrapped form of Hope. Instead she summoned her usual pluck and leaned to pick the baby up, giving him a nudge with her knee as she spoke. "Tweedle Dumbass is at the door. You're wanted in the Great Hall."

He blinked up at her sleepily, a low sigh emitting from him. She drew in a deep breath as she turned and made her way into the bedroom, gently depositing Hope into the cradle at the side of the bed, before making her way toward the wardrobe. In a twisted way, she was more protected at Hogwarts than she would have been anywhere else. The ruse of blank stare had become second nature to her and all she had to do, most days, was smile prettily and act as submissive as she had in her first few years of marriage. She was quite good at it, and for the tradeoff of the man he'd become behind closed doors, it was well worth the difference.

By the time Severus emerged from a hasty shower, she'd laid out the robes he would need and pushed a cup of coffee into his hands. A quick nod and he was gone, leaving Sara to her own devices. It was as if the change in him were palpable the instant the robes went on, his very bearing shifted, becoming older than his years, as though the weight of the world were on his shoulders. She hated it for him, hated it for them, hated what she saw at night when he slumped wordlessly on the couch and buried his head in his hands. But most of all, she hated what had been done to him, and what was denied him, even now. She hated, for the first time in her adult life, hated … Albus Dumbledore.


	35. Chapter 35

A/N- Rounding Second! Yes, I know the baseball analogies don't really fit, but I'm on a roll. The story should be completed tonight, if I have enough coffee and my muse doesn't decide to go watch more episodes of NCIS. Don't blink you KNOW Abby is hotness.

BTW, this chapter is a bit on the short side, the scene demanded such. The next will be longer. There are… perhaps 4 left. The story will be done tonight, hang tight, folks.

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Thirty Five

* * *

Autumn gave way to winter and winter began to bleed into spring, the hints of warmth rising to the hills that surrounded Hogwarts, however it was not enough to break the shades of gray in which the castle seemed locked. It was a prison and he the warden, a militaristic regime and yet subtly defined by the underpinnings of hope, clung to by the inhabitants. Hope was a funny thing. In days past it was what he'd clung to, the hope of death to be as painless as it possibly could. And yet, as he stood overlooking the lake, it was all Severus Snape could do to bring himself to remain outwardly calm. Spring was bearing down on Hogwarts, and with the storms of spring came new life. Whatever hope he held was tenuous and grasped carefully and closely to what remained of his heart. It beat behind the closed door of his quarters, a rotund little girl with pale eyes and a hooked nose that mirrored his own, who had just learned to creep her way across the Persian rug that was older than he was. It beat within the confines of the woman who had taught him to love the living, rather than living for the dead.

And this night, as the words of Amycus Carrow rang in his ears, it was the last night he would live. "Potter was seen in Hogsmeade."

He lowered his eyes to the lake once more, the placid surface betraying nothing, the gray of the sky blotting out the moon, it all was as reflective a setting as any Poe story ever written. Severus stepped away from the window and turned to make his way toward the door to his quarters. His hand rested for a moment on the latch, his head bowing as he drew in a breath to steady himself. As he stepped inside, Sara hovered in the doorway, jostling a cranky Hope in her arms as she paced.

He'd never seen a more beautiful sight than he did in that moment. His mate, his Kelsalis, and the living, breathing person they'd created together. Her words were exasperated as she spoke. "She's teething and in pain, I hate when I can't fix it." He stared toward Sara, his gaze unfocused as he exhaled lightly, giving a smile. "There's some of the potion left in the cabinet by the sink. A dab of that on her gums worked quite well last night."

Her hair was bound back in a braid, her feet bare, and the muggle jeans she favored were paired with another of her frumpy sweaters. He couldn't deny that though he hated her choice in clothing most of the time, it was in that moment that he knew he'd never seen anything more breathtaking. She knew instantly as his eyes met hers. She paled as she shook her head. "No. Please no."

Severus shook his head, putting a finger to his lips as he stepped forward to lift Hope into his arms. "There's a Portkey in my desk, that will take you home, when the time comes. If … it goes badly, I want you to take Hope and go." He strode toward the kitchen, his hand straying to the sink as he uncorked the potion, brewed by his own hands after he and Sara had nearly lost their minds with their first experience in teething. He dabbed a bit onto Hope's gums, feeling the sharpness of the baby tooth just beneath the surface. Almost instantly, she hiccupped and tucked her head into the crook of his neck. His head lowered, eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of his child. It soothed more than just the baby, to have that connection for a moment. He recorked the potion and left it on the counter, turning to make his way toward Sara, who stood stockstill, her anxiety unfurling inside him in addition to his own.

He surrendered Hope to her, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He stared at his Kelsalis. This moment had been decades in coming, and he couldn't, at this moment, for the life of him think of words to comfort her that would not sound trite or meaningless. In the end, he tucked Hope back into her arms and wordlessly brushed a kiss over her lips. Love had taken him months ago, and he understood, he knew, from the pulse of his heart that echoed in the eyes of the woman before him, just what Lily had laid her life down for all those years ago. His lips parted, the words slipping from him before he could censor himself. "I have to do this. Do not do something foolish, Sara. That's a command."

And with that he was gone, for once not waiting to hear her confirmation. She would obey, she was bound to it, by his will, and by her promise. Defiance, was not in her genetic makeup, and for once in his life, he was grateful for it.

* * *

Sara waited until the door had closed behind him to bark the words softly. "Pax, get your squat little ass in here." In the next instant, there was a distinct pop and the house elf who had silently served them for months now presented himself. It stared up at her as she bounced Hope, who had instantly burst into tears at Severus's departure, on her hip.

"Mistress called for Pax?" There was a note of surprise in the elf's voice and Sara stared at him.

It took her only a few moments to draw herself up to her full height, though disturbingly the elf reached her waist, since she barely broke five feet on a good day in her bare feet. "Damn skippy I did. What's going on out there?"

The elf shrank back visibly. "The Dark Lord will come for Harry Potter, Mistress, tonight."

"And Harry Potter, where is he now?" She eyed the elf, doing her best Snape impression, and was rewarded with a hurried shake of the elf's head, and the defiance inside her mounted. She cocked her head slightly, giving a terse nod. "You can apparate out of the castle?"

"I can, Mistress, but it is much too dangerous." Pax the elf began to wring his hands in the teatowel he wore, his eerily large eyes locked onto the baby.

Sara moved toward the desk tugging it open and drawing out the sickly chipped pink teacup bearing the scratched image of a kitten. She closed her eyes for a moment and pressed her lips to Hope's forehead, murmuring nonsensical words gently, though she knew the whimpers of the teething baby were not the result of the pain of the incoming tooth, but the anxiety that radiated through the room. Sara crouched before the elf, passing Hope to him as she said the words seriously. "Take her, Pax. The Portkey will put you in my mother's kitchen. Tell her you are to watch over the baby until I come for her, or until Severus comes for her. If… neither of us comes back, tell Mrs. Potts that I've made all the arrangements."

The elf's eyes widened comically. "Mistress, the Headmaster never told Pax this plan!" He appeared torn for a moment.

Sara smirked, her words taking on a vicious edge. "Of course the Headmaster didn't tell you this plan, because it is MY plan. Now, go." She pressed the Portkey into his grasp, murmured the word gently. "Portus." And took a single step back. She watched the elf as it disappeared into nothingness, her eyes lingering for long minutes in the place where her daughter had last been.

She drew in a long breath, letting the air fill her lungs as she turned toward the bedroom to change. Fifteen minutes later, she emerged into the Great Hall, the sound of glass smashing, cheers lifting and lights blazing where only darkness had resided before. A group of children were ushered past her guided by the caretaker, a man she'd only glimpsed from a distance. In the center of the room, Harry Potter and his band of would be heros spoke to McGonagall. Sara lifted her eyes toward the far end of the room, where a hole now resided in the glass. Her heart dropped as she realized what must have happened. Silence pressed in for a moment as a hand rested on her shoulder. Sara's eyes flicked toward Molly Weasley. There was no recrimination in her eyes as she gave a nod toward the door. "They're starting preparations, but they will understand, if you don't want to fight your husband."

Sara had expected her stomach to turn in revulsion. She had expected the clench of anxiety to start up once more. Instead, in a state curiously like she'd experienced before, she shook her head, her hand lifting to pat Molly's. "I'm not fighting, Severus, Molly. None of us are fighting Severus. Now… what can I do to help?"

There was a moment's pause before she was issued instructions and she took her second, less tentative step toward defiance.


	36. Chapter 36

A/N- It's been a bumpy ride and it's not about to get any better for our hero and reluctant heroine. While Snape's death scene in the books is no less moving, I prefer the visual of the movies. So… deal with my deviation from canon in this one thing, if you please.

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Thirty Six

* * *

Snape knew the moment the wards fell, he watched as the castle bombardment began. The voice of the man from behind him came as no shock. The ruse was almost over. He'd known the Dark Lord's intent from the first moment he'd seen him enter the boathouse. The words however, resounded in his head. "The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner." Voldemort took a step closer, the cold words settling over Severus as if in mockery of everything he'd ever done to atone for his past. "You killed Dumbledore, Severus." The words continued, flowing over him as a cold rain, cleansing in the strangest of ways.

He had never truly stopped to consider what death might be like, what clichés might truly apply. Vaguely he was aware of the pain, of the blood that flowed, of his head bouncing off the glass. There was no clarity in his death, he realized this as Nagini's fangs ripped into his skin. How many times? He lost count. He didn't want to count. An unexpected peace settled over him as the world began to edge in, the haze of death lingering, unabated, only long enough to come in the form of Potter and his two sidekicks. Severus struggled for breath, the sting of tears in his eyes, though he didn't feel sad, only tired. So very tired. The boy's lips were moving, though he couldn't make out the words. How had it come to this?

It was not until Potter's voice invaded his bliss that he was able to focus his eyes unsteadily on the boy's face. His mind spun with the sharp words he could say, the things he'd wished would come, yet nothing did, save for the whispered instructions of his memories. The unfiltered truth, he'd done his job, he'd obeyed until the very end, fulfilled his promise, and his penance, and in that moment, the comfort and truth washed over him as surely as the peace that he'd been seeking, so unknowingly, a peace he'd never known in his adult life. He left his eyes drift to the far wall, only dimly aware of the pressure on his chest. Clinically, detached, he knew it was the end. There was no strength left.

Severus knew nothing else, his eyes open, yet saw only black, his lips parted, and yet the precious life-giving air that would sustain him didn't enter his lungs. The end, of Severus Snape was as unremarkable as the rest of his life.

He knew this as he crouched before his own body, observed his own chest, unmoving. The lightness that surrounded him, the flickering in the distance of the battle as it raged on, it was clearly his own death he watched. Yet as the voice came from behind him, he knew no joy. "Sev. Look at me."

The words were almost a mockery of his own, dying breaths and a voice he had not heard in too many years, yet was so achingly familiar that he had no choice but to obey. The instant he spun, he was face to face with her. She was but a small girl, untouched by the years, and so very young. Had he ever been so young? The flaming halo of her hair was as vibrant as the last day he'd seen her, her eyes as vivid as that'd been in life. The sounds of battle abated, and he didn't care. In that moment, he didn't care as he stepped toward her, drawn as ever, a moth to her flame. Her voice was low, carrying a sense of urgency. "Severus, you're dying."

* * *

"Expelliarmus!" Sara ducked as the spell zinged toward her, deflecting it on an instinctual level. Somewhere inside her belly, the anxiety from Severus, wherever he was, flared, and then dimmed. She stood in the courtyard, a clump of surprisingly adept teenagers surrounding her. The anxiety dimmed and with it her calm. In the next moment, she felt nothing. Her heart lurched inside her chest, her lungs closing up as she stumbled, hit with a stunning spell she hadn't seen coming. She landed on her back, her head striking the stone with a sickening thud. "Christ, they're as bad as you guys said." Sara gasped for air as she struggled to her feet, narrowly missing taking a massive club to the skull as she darted back inside the castle.

A blur ran past her, recognizing the glasses instantly, and her hand shot out, her fingers closing over Potter's upper arm, speaking the words harshly. "Where is Severus?" Her pulse quickened as she stared at his stricken face. In that moment, he was a boy who'd seen too much, endured too much. And in her gut, Sara wished she could bring herself to care. She repeated herself as he tried to pull away. "Where is my husband?" The words came out as a guttural snarl as the sconces on the wall flared, sputtering.

He stared at her, his lips working soundlessly. She paled, knowing instantly that the dullness, the absence of his presence in her chest meant the worst. She pushed the words out, forcing them out despite herself. "Where?"

Potter's eyes burned into her own before he whispered the words softly. "The boathouse, but he's… you can't… there's nothing you can do for him now."

Sara's gut twisted as she released him, pinning him with a glare that would have done her Kel proud. "Do not tell me, Mr. Potter, what I am and am not capable of. Only one man gets that privilege, and I assure you, you have a long way to go before you'll be half the man he is." With that she clutched her arm and took off at a dead run. The boathouse. At least she knew here that was. Almost a year of living in the blasted castle and she knew precious little of how to get most anywhere. She didn't pause, didn't stop to think. She simply ran, for her life, for his life, for Hope's life. For their lives.

* * *

She was as unsullied as she'd been in life, the worry in her eyes very real. Severus fought back tears at the sight of her, stepping closer on pure instinct. Need welled up in him, and a hand lifted, brushing her cheek. Her voice came once more, an urgent note lancing through her tone. "Severus, you've done so well, come so far."

He frowned, a niggling at the back of his head betraying him in that moment. What was she blithering on about? There was only her, only him, and the lovely pink glow that surrounded them, encapsulating them against time and space. "Lily." He spoke her name, tongue caressing as though she were the answer to life, and yet as he did, it brought none of the satisfaction he'd hope for. He tried again, attempting to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth, a haze settling around him. "Lily?"

Her clear green eyes held a world of worry as she rested her hand over his. "You've worked so very hard, for so long, Severus. I know you're tired."

Tired. Yes. He was. How did she know that? Why was he tired? His brow wrinkled as his thumb traced over her perfectly formed nose. "Where did I go?" The question escaped him without conscious thought. Confusion settled over him. "Lily, where did I go?" Why was it the wrong name for his tongue to form? Why were her eyes the wrong color? Why was her hair the wrong shade? Why … why … why?

Anger flooded him in the next moment as he remembered, releasing her abruptly, snatching his hand away as though burned. "Sara?"

Relief filtered into Lily's eyes as she finally seemed to relax. "You remember."

"Of course I remember, I'm not a complete imbecile. But the question remains, where is Sara and where am I? And what am I doing staring at a woman who'd been dead for seventeen years?" His voice broke on the last, his mind racing as he spun. They stood on a familiar hill, a tree towering over them. The grass was tall, brushing his knees. There was no smell of smog, nothing save hills and grass and wildflowers as far as he could see. It was the place they'd spent a million hours together as children, lifetimes ago. He turned a full revolution, his eyes coming to rest on her form once more.

She drew in a breath, expelling it slowly. "Severus, you're dying."

He frowned at her, glanced down at himself. His robes were as pristine as they ever were, neatly pressed and tailored to his frame perfectly. Absently, he tucked his hands in his pockets, the haze that had settled over his mind coming no closer to clearing as he shook his head. "No. I was… I was…" The information came in bits and pieces, images and snippets. A woman. A child. Blue eyes, not green. Skin like velvet and kisses that whispered in the night things that healed his fractured soul. "What happened?"

He knew the answer, even as he stared at her, a sudden grief striking him. "Severus, you're dying." She repeated herself firmly. "You have done your duty, any debt you owed to any of us is long repaid. Close your eyes, Severus, and go home."

He couldn't bring himself to close his eyes, he couldn't bring himself to obey a ghost. He couldn't… couldn't recall the face of the name that came to his lips once more. "Sara?" His voice broke, sadness burgeoning in his chest. It was a bone-deep anguish that lanced through him, a pain as fresh and real as the snake's fangs had been, piercing the fog and consuming him. "Sara?"

Lily was in front of him now, gripping his shoulders and giving him a firm shake. "Severus, you're dying."

He shook her off, retreating from her, from the grief, from the anger that radiated from her. "You've said. Stop repeating yourself. Tell me how… I don't know how… I have to… she's alone… where is Sara?"

The pain that lanced through him, searing hot and all too real came once more as he fell to his knees. "Where is she?"

Lily knelt before him, her hands coming to frame his face. It didn't feel like what he expected. It was hollow, empty, the wrong hands, the wrong eyes, the wrong lips, the wrong face. He was so confused. "Where is she?"

Her words came softly, too softly, too laden with sorrow for him to understand. She simply repeated herself quietly. "Severus, you need to go home. Close your eyes, Severus, and go home."

He stared at her, uncomprehending. Where was home? Who was Sara? Where were the blue eyes, the gentle hands, the right person? Where was the tiny hooked nose and one-tooth grin? Severus was lost. And as he stared at Lily, his Lily, through the blur of tears, the exhaustion that overwhelmed him also latched on. "Forgive me. I'm so sorry."

The defeat in his voice was tinged with something he didn't recognize, and Lily's smile lit her face once more. "Severus. You paid your debt a thousand fold… but listen to me… you have to go. Your Sara is coming and you need to go home. Do you understand?"

In the distance, a light began to pulsate, the field of flowers turning to ash, the horizon closing in. He stared over her shoulder and something behind his navel pulled. How… who? Where? The questions spun through his mind as Lily's voice echoed in his ear. "Close your eyes, Sev." And this time, he did just that.


	37. Chapter 37

A/N- Rounding third! Hang in there with me, the conclusion will be within the next chapter or two.

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Thirty Seven

* * *

She felt anxiety, confusion, sadness, yet his body was still. Where the brief numbness had resided for long minutes, now there lay a world of pain, unfurling in her belly. Sara blinked away the tears as she moved toward him. He was pale, still, and his chest held no traces of breath. Blood covered him, staining his robes and pooling on the floor. She knelt, drawing the solid weight of his body into her lap, her fingers closing over his cheek as her head bowed. This couldn't be real. It couldn't be real!

"Severus Snape, open your eyes this instant, I have a bone to pick with you." He didn't stir. Her fingers clenched around his upper arms as she lifted her eyes toward the ceiling, her fogged mind scrambling for purchase and finding none. She had to stay calm. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be dead. She wouldn't feel him if he were dead. He was aware, somehow, though trapped. The panic that rose in her was not her own. Her eyes closed for a moment but all she saw was a glimpse of red hair and ash. She groped for something, anything to hold onto, the whispered words spilling from her lips softly. "Severus, my Kel, you need to wake up. I can feel you. I know you're there. I know you're not gone."

There was a flicker of a response, the brief flaring of hope inside her, unfurling, uncurling from a tightly clasped bud. It flickered and then faded. "Yes, I know you're there. Tell me what to do. I need to know what to do."

The hope sprang once more and as unbidden, a memory sprang to mind. Dumbldore's eyes twinkling knowingly, his words gentle despite her having snapped at him. "The primary function of a Kelsalis, when she is smart enough to use her power, is that of healing, Sara."

She gave a growl of frustration as she addressed the otherwise empty room. "I get it, fine, I get it. I'm to heal him, but how? How can I heal him when I don't have …." She paused for a moment, her gaze locking to the ceiling above her head, the wheels turning, the words she'd heard whispered in her ear. Her pleasure came from his pleasure, at his behest. His life… could it work both ways? Could it really be that simple? So stupidly simple that she'd never seen it?

Dumbledore had given her the answer. "You'll know what to do."

The gates clicked open, the locks fell away, and to her astonishment, she knew. And it sickened her. Her eyes lowered to his unmoving form, and that flicker radiated in her stomach again, a question. Her fingers moved sluggishly, stroking his face as she forced out a shaky laugh. "Never say I didn't do anything for you."

She reached for his wand, abandoning her own on the ground. Instinct carried her as she gingerly moved his larger frame to prop it against the wall. On impulse, she brushed her lips over his cheek, wiping away the traces of tears with her thumb and with shaking hands pressed the wand she held against the smallest of the wounds. The flare, the flicker of hope that dimly grew was latched onto, his essence, his hope, his life's pulse. "Kelsalis …" Her lips moved, whispering the words gently, her mind reeling as she forced them out. "Adimo.." There was no change, and yet that flame grew inside her. "Vulneris."

She let her eyes fall closed, her head bowing as she felt the smallest sting on her upper arm, pain lancing through her. Sara inhaled sharply, a whisper coming from the back of her mind, a voice so like her own that she did not know, and yet instinctively obeyed. Her eyes flicked open, her gaze coming to rest on the wound the wand had been touching, only to find it gone. Her heart leaped inside her chest. Though the smears of blood remained, the skin was unmarred. She drew in a breath and knew then, murmuring the words softly, as she moved his wand to the next. "Kelsalis adimo vulneris." Another searing pain, so intense it took her breath away, this one on her neck.

Without thought she forged onward, moving to the next wound, and the next, and the next. With each passing moment, her pulse quickened, adrenaline carrying her onward. It wasn't enough. His pulse was thread, but growing stronger, and she knew, as she brought the wand to his throat where the largest gash was, just what she was doing. She was fully aware, fully clear, and regretted nothing. Her hand rose to rest on his face, and for a moment, she thought she saw his eyes flicker with awareness. A trick of the light. It had to be a trick of the light. Her fingers shook as she stared at him, the final words spilling from her lips without conscious effort. It only mattered, the strengthening flare of hope that had no flickered into full on awareness. "Kelsalis adimo mortis."

No sooner did the words leave her lips than her neck burned, blood seeping from the now opened wound even as she watched in mute fascination as the one on his own neck faded. Awareness sparked in obsidian eyes in that instant, just as her own vision blurred. Her lips worked soundlessly, her fingers pressing to her neck as if to do so could possibly stop what she'd started. He blinked at her, his lips curving into a smile, a beautiful, untainted smile, though as comprehension dawned, it faded, to be replaced by horror.

Her fingers loosened on his wand as the first moment of panic set in. He was angry with her. Shit. Her blood soaked fingers moved, pressing to his lips to forestall the diatribe she knew was coming. His eyes, those precious black eyes that bore into her own with such intensity stared down at her as the blackness overtook her, and breath was robbed of her, his arms around her catching her as she fell and his voice in her ear, the last thing she heard. "Stupid, stupid girl."

* * *

The words left his lips without remorse. How had she done this? How had she managed it? He didn't stop to think, but wrapped his arms around her as her slight form lurched forward and then was sickeningly still. Dread uncurled in Severus's stomach. The pool of blood on the floor was not only his. The wounds were sealed, the venom that had paralyzed proper thought was no longer in his veins, no doubt mingled on the floor with their blood. His arms wrapped around her and curled her in tightly as he closed his eyes, cursing fluidly as he gathered the last of the strength that was in him and focused his mind, pushing aside the emotions that threatened to overtake him.

They apparated into the Great Hall with a smooth pop. He didn't know if the battle was over, he didn't know if Potter was dead, or if Voldemort had finally been defeated. He didn't know if he'd be killed on sight, or if he would live to see this through, he knew only one thing. He lifted his voice, though it was weak at best. "H..help!" His voice was not his own, weakened by exhaustion, and emotion, it broke, coming out as a sob. "Help! Poppy!"

The first face he saw was McGonagall's. Anger burned in her eyes, and her wand was pointed to him. He clutched Sara's still body closer to his, rasping out the words, as he tried to focus his eyes on her through the haze of tears. This time, he felt the sadness acutely, the grief directly. "K..kill me. I don't care… kill me, but please… you have to… Sara…"

Her eyes then fell to the bloodied form in his arms and her wand lowered. She swept forward, her voice lifting. "Poppy, I need you."

"And so do a dozen over bloody people, Minerva, you'll have to wait." The sound of the medi-witch's tired voice came from somewhere else.

Severus's heart sank as he shifted in place, drawing Sara into his lap. "Please." Minerva's face blurred as he lowered his head, burying his face in her hair, rendered helpless for the second time in the night. "She… she… please. Please help. Minerva, please help."

He was surrounded by people then, in the next moment. Granger was kneeling beside him. "Professor?" He was barely aware of Potter's bloodied figure taking up residence on the other side. "Professor Snape, let Hermione take her. She can help her." His fingers wouldn't let go though and the anguished bellow that ripped through the room couldn't have been his.

His eyes closed tightly as the warm weight of his wife was taken from him and he lunged forward toward nothing, hands clawing as he saw stars. "Sara! Give me Sara!" She was the only bloody thing he had left. The only thing that mattered and she was gone.

Arms closed around him, and still his eyes didn't open, he didn't know how to open them again to a world without that little piece of light that had pieced together the fractured remnants of his blackened soul. The words were dim, barely making a mark on his awareness, Granger's voice snapping orders to some unknown person. "She's still got a pulse. Ron, hand me the dittany from my bag. Hurry."

A pulse. Severus's hands shook as he slowly let his eyes open, staring at Sara's form. "She's…"

Potter's voice came from his left, and the arms that had restrained him loosened, as if testing him. His broken world came into alignment once more, and he was able to breathe, if only for a moment. "Kill me, but save her. You have to … you must…"

"Someone do something! Shut him up! Please!" The words, the voice, Minerva taking charge as she was so good at. Severus lowered his head, expelling a breath as the spell hit him, sending him into blissful darkness and the welcomed arms of unconsciousness.

* * *

Sara blinked, frowning as she found herself staring at, of all things, a tree. In all her time picturing the afterlife she'd never considered that it would consist of an ordinary, gnarled tree in desperate need of pruning. The voice was one she didn't know, coming from somewhere behind her. "He's okay."

She spun and found herself faced with a vaguely familiar face. The woman was younger than her by some years, flaming red hair and green eyes that bore a world of emotion far older than her physical form seemed to be capable of having lived. Sara stared at her, her brow drawing together in a frown. "Are you… are you her?"

The woman smiled. "I suppose you know, then. He's a bit of a mess, at the best of times. But he's a good man."

Cautiously, she lowered herself to the spot the woman was patting. She didn't speak, but glanced toward the horizon. "Ash. Why is there ash?"

The girl's eyes flicked toward it, one slender shoulder rising in a half-shrug. "His world is burning and soon, there will be nothing left but memory."

"Am I dead, then?" Sara turned her gaze back to the other woman.

She was answered with a quick shake of the head. "Not quite. The dead can never truly be brought back. You're not quite dead yet, but it's close for the moment."

Sara couldn't bring herself to wrap her mind around it. She leaned back against the trunk of the tree, watching as the first bits of ash began to fall around them, peaceful as the first snow of winter. She lifted a hand, capturing it in her palm, staring at it. "It's nothing without him." The words were matter of fact.

To her surprise, the woman's laugh was quiet. "You can stay. Or you can go. You've done your part. But I think, he deserves for you to go."

Her fingers traced over the ash, reducing it further, and curiously it felt like silk beneath her fingertips. "Life or death, neither is anything without him." The admission was gentle as she glanced toward the other woman, the woman that she'd always been measured by, who's memory was something that even the gods themselves wouldn't have been able to live up to. Sara's voice was rueful, yet she couldn't bring herself to hate the memory of Lily Potter than sat beside her. "I'll never be you, and I don't mind that he doesn't love me. I can love him enough for the both of us, until he's ready."

The smile was brilliant and in that moment, she saw the years of worry edge out of the other woman's eyes. "My boy did it. He saved the world. And you saved Sev's. I think you should go back. I think you'll find he was ready a long time ago. He's just a bit of a dunderhead at those things."

Sara glanced upward toward the canopy of the tree, a bit of ash landing on her nose. "Thank you, for him."

The woman gave a brief smile as she shook her head. "Don't mention it. But I think you should close your eyes now, Sara. It's time to go home."


	38. Chapter 38

A/N- This is the last chapter of what's been a wild ride. I'd like to thank everyone who hung in there for the nearly 90,000 word adventure that's been Sara and Sev's story. Thanks to everyone who was kind enough to review, and to all the readers who didn't. I hope I did them justice in some small measure.

The Sound of Silence will be next.

Snow

* * *

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Thirty Eight

* * *

Minerva hovered at the door of the infirmary. For the past three days, Severus hadn't left the infirmary. His appearance was ghastly, his pallor as white as the sheets that he rested a hand on top of. The still form of the woman beneath had held his attention for 72 straight hours and he was showing signs of wear. His hair hung around his face in strings, and for the first time since he was a teenager truly was as greasy as she'd once heard him teased for. Streaks of blood, days old, covered his face, his clothing was just as bad. As she stepped closer, she saw no sign of a response. He simply sat, and stared.

The child in Minerva's arms let out a shriek of excitement at the sight of him and for the first time since the battled, she saw a response. His head jerked up, eyes wide, a feral edge entering his onyx gaze. The bewilderment abated and his voice was soft. "Hope." His eyes flicked back to his wife, his fingers resuming stroking her hand through the barrier of the cloth. Minerva put on her sternest voice. "Severus Snape, you should be ashamed of yourself."

His eyes snapped to her once more, confusion edging in. Now she was making progress. "Look at yourself. You've not slept in three days, you haven't eaten, and you smell like something that crawled out of the boy's lavatory. That's quite enough wallowing in self-pity from you, young man."

There was a flicker, just a tiny spark in his eyes. He rose slowly from the chair, taking a step toward her, his hands rising, shaking. Minerva took a step back. "Shower, eat, and rest, then you can hold her."

Indignation came next as he stared at her. He took another step forward and the child in her arms gave a happy shriek and a toothy grin. "Hope… give me Hope."

Minerva raised her free hand as she shook her head, pointing toward the door. "Shower. Eat. Rest. Then… tend your family."

He hesitated, clearly debating, the first rational response anyone had gotten from him. His face was lined with fatigue, and in that moment he looked far older than his 38 years. Minerva's expression softened. "Severus… you must take care of yourself from now on. You'll do your family no favors if you drop dead of exhaustion. You're still not well."

His eyes blazed then as the wheels started to turn in his head. "What if she wakes up, for even a moment, and I'm not here? What if she slips away and I'm gone for a turkey sandwich… what if she doesn't wake up?" The tears that gathered at the corners of his eyes were the first she'd ever seen. It took every ounce of Minerva McGonagall's self-restraint not to speak sharply. Instead she merely strode toward him and for the third time in his life, Severus Snape found himself smacked on the back of the head. Hard.

He had the good grace to look sheepish, though he gave her a scowl that just for a moment, seemed to show some shred of the surly man she knew so well. She gave a pleased smile. "I'm glad you see reason despite your smelly state, Professor Snape. Now, if you please, remove yourself from the hospital wing until such time as you do not smell like something a hippogriff shat out."

His lips worked soundlessly and he turned, giving one last look toward the bed before making his way out of the hospital wing. Minerva waited until the door closed behind him to move toward the chair that he'd occupied, and lowered herself into it. "That's much better, isn't it, young lady?" Hope gurgled in approval as she chewed on Minerva's sleeve. McGonagall didn't mind, in fact, she shifted to let the infant continue her happy gumming, speaking gently. "I do hope that when you begin classes here yourself, you'll be a less sullen student than your father. Brilliant mind, shrewd sense of humor, but trigger happy with a hex, he always was." The baby, for her part, merely lifted her head to meet Minerva's eyes, giving another shrill shriek of joy.

* * *

Severus sat in the chair that he was sure was going to have a Snape sized ass-imprint on it. Two weeks he'd been sitting in the same place. Day in and day out, unmoving save to shower or take the occasional meal forced on him by Poppy or Minerva. Two weeks, she still hadn't stirred. Hope giggled happily on the floor beside him, where she sat on the blanket spread out. Sara was the only remaining patient in the infirmary. All the dead had been buried days ago, and the more serious injuries treated at Saint Mungo's. Sara though, he'd refused to let anyone near her save for Poppy or Granger. Granger was more adept at healing than he'd had any clue, and the chit had, in fact, saved his wife's life.

He settled a hand on the top of Hope's head and was rewarded with a giggle. His eyes slid closed as he listened to the steady breathing of his Kelsalis. She was stable, simply sleeping, Poppy said. Only time would finish healing the wounds that had been inflicted on her. But how much time? How long would he have to live in this nightmare?

The sigh was audible and for a moment, he thought it was his own. His eyes snapped open and instantly sought out Sara's form. She'd shifted, turning to her side and tucking her hands beneath her cheek as he'd seen her do a hundred times. Her eyes were staring right back at him, blinking sleepily, as if she'd just awoken from a nap. Sweetly kissable lips tugged upward in a smile, her voice barely above a whisper. "Hello there."

Severus's heart lurched inside his chest as he leaned forward. His emotions were a tumult, and all else was forgotten as his hand rose to rest on her cheek, the warmth of her living body radiating into his palm. He smiled, blinking away the tears that suddenly rose to his eyes. His words were a soft as her own, his thumb finding its own way to stroke over her lower lip of its own accord. "I thought… you were… don't do that to me again."

They were sternly spoken, and as he lowered his head, the flurry of activity around them seemed to come from nowhere. "She's awake, Minerva! Oh! Oh! She's awake!" Poppy's voice held threads of excitement and Severus found himself simply ignoring everything.

He watched her, those pale blue eyes that had once reminded him so much of the coldness of ice, and in those eyes he saw something he'd never dared to hope for before. "Stupid girl." He murmured the words as he leaned to brush a kiss over her forehead. "Stupid, insipid, silly, brilliant…" Each word was punctuated with a featherlight kiss showered on her face. "Maddening. Sweet. Lovely. Amazing. Girl."

Sara's eyes closed for a moment before opening against as he rested his forehead against hers. Her voice was gentle, though laden with sleep. "Severus…"

He drew back only enough to seek out her eyes, his brow drawing into a furrow. "Yes, love?"

She stared at him and something fanned inside his chest, a flame leaping to life, a fire surging through his veins and for the first time in weeks, he felt… alive. His gaze narrowed on her as he studied her, speaking the words quietly. "I know."

There was a moment of hope, as if she were waiting for something. He let a smile curl up the corners of his lips. "I can't tell you when it began. I can't tell you how or why. I only know that I love you, more than my very life, and I will never leave your side, nor let you leave mine, again."

Relief flickered into his awareness first, filtering through his veins and threatening to tumble him over some precipice. The second thing he grew aware of were the eyes on him. Granger's voice lifted over the din of murmurs. "See, Ron? I told you he couldn't be _that_ bad."

Severus narrowed his eyes as he brushed a kiss over her forehead. "Poppy will want to see you. Rest a bit, I'm going to take care of something." Her eyes flickered for a moment before her smile rose to her lips once more, the blessed smile that he loved so dearly.

Her whispered words were sheepish. "We have _got_ to talk about this bossing me around thing you do all the time."

He gave her a wink as he rose from his chair, stepping around Hope, who was steadily demolishing saltines on her blanket on the floor. He folded his hands before himself, facing what he'd known was coming. At least they'd had the decency to wait this long. The three that had saved the world as he knew it stood before him. He surveyed them coolly, eyes landing on Potter. The boy was the image of his father, and the arrogance he'd expected was … not there. Snape stared at the boy for long minutes, the awkward exchange that was bound to happen, the words that would come.

To his astonishment, there was nothing, only the silent proferring of a hand thrust toward him. Severus stared at it for a moment before accepting it in silence. The words that came were not the ones he expected, not the words of disgust or recrimination. They were, instead, the very ones he'd never expected to hear from any Potter, ever. "Thank you, Sir."

Severus blinked, his grip tightening on Potter's. He drew in a slow breath, schooling his gaze into one of careful neutrality. In that moment, he knew that his memories would remain private. Potters voice was level. "I took care of it."

Snape frowned, a question in his eyes that he didn't dare voice. Granger was the one who broke the silence, her voice low. "Any possible charges, any rumors, they've been taken care of Professor. Kingsley… he knows everything now. The Ministry has enough problems of their own to sort out without hassling you and your family about… things."

"Ah." Was his brilliant response. He glanced back toward the bed where Poppy was fussing over Sara, who was staring toward the baby on the floor. He sought out words. The weight of the past years weighed heavily, and he spoke haltingly. "I never… expected to live this long."

Why he said it, he didn't know. Weasley was the one who piped up next. "Poor kid got your nose, mate."

He stiffened, and fixed the Weasley with a glare that would have sent him screaming not even a year before. "You will kindly refrain from commenting about my daughter's nose. I will have you know, Mr. Weasley, that her nose, is quite perfect, as is the rest of her." They words were out before he could stop himself.

Granger beamed at him, her eyes misting over as she glanced toward the other two and for the life of him, Severus Snape couldn't understand what he'd said that was worthy of tears. Even Potter was grinning madly. He snapped the words without thought. "What are the three of you still staring at? Don't you have something better to do with your time than detain me with your foolish sentimentalities?"

"Ah! Of course, Sir! Sorry, Professor." Potter was the first to stammer out the words, reaching to haul Weasley from the infirmary.

Snape glanced toward Granger, giving her a wink. She grinned brilliantly at him as she too, turned to go, disappearing out the door.

Severus turned to regard his little family once more. Family. It was the word Minerva had spoken that had snapped him from his stupor. It was a word he'd never considered, and now, it seemed he had a lifetime to find out just what it meant. The feeling the blossomed in his chest… it was a physical ache that grew, flourishing into a full blown storm. His family was whole. He was whole. And life was no longer something he was on the fringes of. He stepped toward his family, giving a smile of triumph, understanding for the first time, fully, just what it meant.

This was what he'd been fighting for.

* * *

Fin


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